


A Local's Guide to Batman Watching

by MelodramaticMrTails



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Injury, M/M, Rutting, Sex Work, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-01-31 10:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 62,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18588970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodramaticMrTails/pseuds/MelodramaticMrTails
Summary: It's a slow night for Dick when Batman drops out of the sky and into his alley. After patching him up, Dick starts to find out a lot more about Bruce, and Batman, than he ever thought he would.





	1. Alleyways

It's a chilly night as if nights in Gotham aren't always.

Dick looks up at the moon hanging overhead. At least the constant overcast during the day disburses at night from time to time. He doesn't have to worry about getting rained on. Mostly. With a soft sigh he looks around again but the streets remain eerily empty. It's getting late and he hasn't seen anyone yet tonight. Eventually some of his regulars will come around but clearly it's going to be slow. Perhaps it's time to walk a new corner.

As much as he's been trying to avoid it, he hears the GCPD’s crooked men pay extremely well. Dick hopes he never has to be that desperate but it hasn't been looking good lately.

There's a commotion in the near distance and Dick sighs loudly. Great, just what he needs, something to spook off customers. It's a shame henchmen tend to be stingy. Dick peers out around the corner to see if he can make out what's going on. It doesn't sound like an explosion- which is honestly shocking. Something crashes into the alley behind him and he jumps. Immediately, he's ready to bolt for it if it's something dangerous. When he realises it _is_ dangerous, however, he doesn't go anywhere.

“Batman?” Dick murmurs in awe. Being in the city at night so often, he's always known Batman was _real_ but he's never seen him this close before. Batman doesn't respond to his voice but instead, stumbles to his feet and then directly into the side of a dumpster. The thump of how hard he hits it alone sounds like it hurts. Dick urgently moves to help him. He expects some kind of resistance but by the time he gets to Batman’s side, the vigilante is unconscious. Dick catches him just in time to stop him from hitting the ground but he's heavier than anticipated and they nearly both fall.

Getting his bearings, Dick readjusts his grip to support him easier. That's when he hears the pursuing henchmen. Fuck. _Fuck_. This is bad.

“Wake up,” Dick says quietly. “Come on, Batman, they're going to get away.” No response. Not even a twitch. He's seriously out cold and the henchmen are getting closer. Dick makes an executive decision. He hurriedly hoists Batman into the dumpster.

“I'm _so_ sorry,” he murmurs, wincing as he closes the top.

“Where did he go?”

“This way!”

Dick plays it natural as a bunch of gun touting men run through his alley. He moves out of the way as they shove past him without paying him much attention. One of them slows to look at him, seemingly realising how Dick is dressed, and smiles. Dick grins back suggestively and gives him a little wave. Fortunately, a different henchman drags him away.

As quickly as everything had happened, it stops again. The henchmen rush off looking for Batman and soon, Dick can't hear them anymore. He catches his breath nervously and once he checks out both ends of the alley to make sure the coast is clear, he returns to peer into the dumpster. Batman is still unconscious. Upon closer inspection, he's pretty beat up, too. Clearly he's had a tough night. Dick isn't sure who he was fighting, the henchmen chasing him were pretty standard cut, but they're definitely not getting any ‘justice’ tonight.

What now? Dick can't just leave Batman in a dumpster and hope he wakes up eventually. Someone else might find him. Someone not nearly as nice as Dick. He might die. Okay, he probably won't die but still. Again, Dick looks around for anyone potentially watching but there’s still no one. He has to take Batman back to his room, he doesn't have any other choice.

Dick plans the route in his head. He needs the quickest, quietest path without cameras. He has more than a couple clients who pay good money to not be caught on the city surveillance system. The last thing he wants is to put himself at risk just because someone saw him dragging Batman off. Taking a deep breath, Dick hauls Batman’s limp body back out of the dumpster and quickly hoists him onto his back.

“You're so much heavier than you look,” he murmurs to himself, trying to find a decent grip on him. Once he does, Dick hastily heads for his room. The entire time, he begs not to run into anyone. It pays off. Whatever Batman was fighting obviously spooked most people into not coming out tonight. Bad for business but good for kidnapping Batman for his own health.

Dick fumbles to get his key card out of his pocket without dropping Batman. He opens his door, slips inside, and slams it behind him. Once he's carefully set Batman on the bed, Dick double bolts the door and locks the window. He makes sure the blinds are drawn completely and only then can he catch his breath. Briefly, anyways. In the new light of his room, Dick can see the blood stains on his hands and chest. He knows for a fact he's not injured but Batman’s suit makes it impossible to tell where he might be injured or if he's injured at all.

“My boss would kill you if he found out you bled all over me,” Dick says. He rubs his forehead in his hand. “My boss would kill us both if he knew I brought Batman to my room.” At the end of the day, though, Dick _believes_ in Batman. Not just that he _exists_ but that he helps people. It only feels fair that he does anything he can to help even at the risk of himself. Dick checks the time. He hasn't had a customer all night and now he has an unconscious Batman in his room. There's no way he's making his quota today.

Dick tentatively peers at Batman’s face again, trying to tell through his mask if he's still unconscious. He's still not moving but he looks extremely hot. Carefully, he starts looking him over for fresh injuries. Upon closer inspection of his suit, sure enough Batman has many of them from his fight tonight. Dick quickly fetches his first aid box from the bathroom and brings it to the edge of the bed to start tending to him.

He realises his first problem immediately: Dick can't _get_ to any of his injuries. Batman’s suit is doing a much better job of preventing Dick from being able to help him then it did at protecting him.

While it seems to be applying pressure to help keep him from bleeding out, its effectiveness is a little questionable. His suit is cut where he's injured and therefore doesn't have as good of a hold as where he's not. Dick attempts to make one of the holes a little bigger but the fabric does more damage to his scissors than the scissors do to it. He huffs softly.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Something _seriously_ fucked you up.” Dick searches for a way to get the suit off but it looks like he would have to take his mask off to do that. That's something Dick extremely doesn't want to have to do if he can help it. Not only is he not sure what Batman would do to him if he found out his real identity but it feels _sacred_ and Dick isn't taking that lightly.

With every touch, it becomes more obvious how hot Batman is actually getting.

“Plan B.” Dick fishes his knife out of his pocket and flips the blade out. Again, he tries to cut the fabric and this time, with a little effort, he gets through it. He stops briefly to stare at his knife. It was a gift from his younger brother for ‘emergencies’. Dick has yet to meet a client he couldn't handle with his hands alone but he carries the knife anyways mostly just to make his brother feel better.

Why the hell did his brother have a knife that can cut kevlar?

Focusing on the task at hand instead, Dick starts cleaning and patching up Batman’s wounds one by one. Most of them are simple cuts but there are several that likely need actual medical attention. Dick does his best to pull them closed and bind them down with bandages and compression patches for the time being. Batman’s skin is already sticky both from blood being smeared around his injuries and his increasingly worsening fever. He's not sure what he'll do if it turns out he has to take Batman to the hospital. By the time he's done, Batman’s suit is in tatters. As much as Dick feels bad about that, he'd feel worse letting him bleed out.

And worse still unmasking him while he's unconscious.

Still, Batman sleeps on. Dick is starting to get anxious. He's breathing and his heart rate seems fine, but he's sweating heavily now and occasionally grunting in pain. Whatever caused him to lose consciousness in the first place obviously has an iron grip on him and Dick has no idea how to reverse it. He tries to keep him cool with a wet cloth but it's hard to do through the ripped pieces of his suit. Inevitably, he has to make the decision to just cut it the rest of the way off.

Everything about this feels weird and creepy as he uses his knife to cut off pieces at a time but Dick doesn't have much of a choice. With the tatters of his suit off, Batman already looks much cooler and therefore, much more comfortable. His mask, unfortunately, isn't doing him any favours but still, Dick hesitates to take it off. He waits it out. In the meantime, he cleans the rest of the blood and sweat off with a cool cloth.

As the night crawls on, Dick frets over what he's going to do. Even if Batman wakes up and is totally fine and disappears back into the night, Dick has responsibilities. If he can't pay his boss his cut today, he's going to be in huge trouble. Fortunately he's liked well enough that Dick is certain he'll get off easy but that isn't saying much. That also means that he won't have any money today and, to make up for not paying his boss today, any money tomorrow, either.

Dick works both his hands through his hair as he stresses. He knows for a fact his younger brother has been stealing things lately to try to make things easier on them- on Dick specifically. His youngest brother is already so thin, Dick isn't sure what he's going to do if he keeps not being able to feed them consistently. He looks at Batman again quietly and frowns.

If he agrees to take the GCPD work, maybe his boss will overlook tonight's nonpayment. Someone as well liked and skilled as Dick taking that job would ensure his boss gets the leverage he wants. Plus, it would make Dick a lot of money. Maybe even enough to get the heat turned back on. Dick hugs himself. If he does this, he knows he can't tell his brothers about it.

They'd leave.

Batman groans audibly from the bed and Dick sighs. He's still sweating too much, it's hard to keep him cool as it is. Dick was hoping he'd be awake by now but that's not happening. Reluctantly, he moves back to the bed and feels Batman’s neck. The sheer heat coming off him is alarming. If he doesn't cool down soon, he's going to cook. Dick fetches a new dish of cool water and props it on the side table before steeling himself. He has to do this. If he doesn't, Batman’s just going to get worse. His secret identity isn't worth his life. Besides, it's not like he's going to tell anyone.

“Sorry Batman,” Dick whispers. He just gets it over with, carefully grabbing the edges and pulling the entire head piece off in a single movement. He pauses.

“Bruce Wayne?”

That- doesn't make a ton of sense, admittedly, but whatever. Dick takes a cool rag and cleans some of the sweat from Wayne’s face before rinsing it off and laying it across his forehead. Immediately, Wayne looks far more comfortable and his temperature drops significantly. Dick sighs in relief. He has a naked Batman in his bed but at least that's one crisis averted.

“No one would believe me if I told them, anyways,” Dick assures with a little amused smile. He sits in his chair again, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. Tonight might cause him many more problems in the near future but he's done the right thing. That's all that matters. Everything else he'll just deal with as it happens just like always.

Dick fishes his phone out of his pocket as it vibrates.

JT < hey there was some trouble in your area are you ok?  
DG > Yeah, I'm okay. Slow night, though.  
TD < How slow?

Dick looks at Wayne.

DG > I'm not going to be able to cover my cut.  
JT < shit  
TD < What are they going to do to you?  
DG > Nothing. It'll be fine. I'm the boss’ favorite, remember?  
JT < you say that like it's a good thing

If he's being honest, Dick would prefer doing some ‘personal’ work for his boss over the GCPD but he doubts he's going to get off that lucky. It's still early, maybe he could call a regular or two, at least make _something_. With Wayne unconscious in his bed, that's not happening. Tomorrow's going to be rough.

Dick keeps Wayne cool as the night goes on. Eventually his fever goes away and Dick cleans him up a little better before checking his injuries again. From there, it seems safe enough to cover him with the blanket. It would be smart to try to get some extra sleep but Dick is too worked up. He tries to calm himself with some stretches.

The GCPD are mean; he should enjoy not being sore while he has the chance.

Both fortunately and not, Wayne finally starts to awaken as the sun begins to rise. It's too late to try to scrounge up last minute customers now but at least Dick doesn't have to worry about potentially taking him to the emergency room.

Wayne opens his eyes and once his consciousness catches up with him, he sits up. Dick watches as he spots his cowl first, then the torn pieces of his suit, then immediately hones in on Dick. There's no expression on his face so it's hard to tell if he's angry or alarmed or even afraid maybe. Batman is never _afraid_ but Bruce Wayne-

It occurs to Dick all at once that he has a very dangerous, very mean man in his room.

“I can explain?” Dick offers. “You were-”

“Injured,” Wayne says. “Drugged. Did you do this?” He gestures at his bandages and Dick gives a firm nod. Wayne doesn't say anything immediately. After a moment, he gets out of bed. He picks up the remains of his suit and examines them briefly before reaching for his mask.

“I didn't want to-” Dick begins quickly and he stops when Wayne looks at him. He hesitates. “I tried not to unmask you but you were getting too hot.”

“I know,” Wayne assures. “Thank you.” Dick isn't sure what he expected but Wayne pulls a normal set of clothes from somewhere on his utility belt and dons them swiftly. Then he leaves. Just like that. A part of Dick wants to be upset, he saved Batman’s life just to get a thank you? But he quickly catches himself. He helped Wayne because it was the right thing to do, not because it would gain him anything.

Because Batman helps other people.

Maybe Jason’s right, though. Not people like them.

Boss < Money pick up in 30.

X

Dick looks at his black eye in the reflection of his phone screen again. It's not going anywhere, he knows that, but he can't help it. It doesn't even hurt and so far, his clients really don't seem to mind. One or two mention it but otherwise, they mind their own business. At least that's the one good thing about the kind of customers in this area. He pockets his phone again.

“Good afternoon.”

Oh god. Dick tries not to wince as he turns. Great, it is Bruce Wayne. Obviously he hadn't made Dick’s life hard enough yesterday so now he's back for more. Tonight he isn't dressed as Batman but instead in a fancy suit like he's known for. Well, fancy suits and his birthday clothes. Dick understands now why that seems to happen to him so often. Wayne doesn't smile but he looks amicable enough. Dick takes a step back, anyways.

“I won't tell anyone, don't worry,” he assures. Wayne exhales a soft noise.

“I know,” he says. Dick gets ready to run for it. That sounds so dangerous and ominous like Wayne is about to ‘make sure’ and he's not having any part of it. “I apologise for my sudden departure last night. Sticking around any longer than I had would have put us both in danger.”

“Right, yeah, it's okay,” Dick promises fleetingly. He could honestly care less about that. Wayne frowns a little and Dick gets the idea that he really doesn't mean any harm. He's Batman, if he really wanted to make sure Dick wouldn't talk he would have done it by now. Kind of like how Dick supposes if _he_ was going to tell someone who Batman was he would have already done it.

“What happened to your eye?” Wayne asks softly. Dick reaches up to touch it before making a face. He gestures to himself.

“I was taking care of you all night,” he says. “I couldn't work.”

“You're a prostitute,” Wayne says as if he's figuring that out right now.

“Sex worker, thanks,” Dick corrects.

“Sorry,” Wayne murmurs. “Because you were tending to me you didn't have money to pay-” he trails off, obviously trying his best to avoid the word ‘pimp’ but not sure what else to use. Dick doesn't help him. He moves on. “Who is it? I'll-”

“No,” Dick says urgently. “You're not- you _can't_ do anything to him, please. If something happens to him, something happens to us, okay? It's not that big a deal.”

“Us?” Wayne repeats.

“I'm not the only worker he has,” Dick scoffs. Figures even if he _is_ Batman, Wayne is about as dense as a brick wall as to how the real world in Gotham works. This also explains a lot about Batman, actually.

“Right,” Wayne says and he exhales deeply again. Dick isn't sure how much he trusts Wayne to stick to his word. If something happens to Black Mask, he'll take it out on them no matter what. If something _really_ happens to him, Dick’s out of a job. Other employers of his kind around here aren't nearly as ‘generous’.

Wayne doesn't say anything else but he's not leaving, either. He's going to scare off Dick's customers _again_.

“Did you want something?” Dick asks with a hesitant wince. Wayne looks a little sad before his expression evens out again. He seems to consider something for a few seconds.

“Come with me,” he finally says.

“Where?” Dick asks mildly. “ _No_. I have work to do. I need to make up for yesterday.” Wayne reaches for his pocket and again, Dick is ready to bolt. All he does is pull out his wallet, however, and a few moments later, holds out a hundred dollar bill. Dick stares at it briefly. Wayne is a billionaire, of course he has money.

“Please come with me?” he insists. Normally Dick charges much more than this to waste his time but he takes the money and gives Wayne a look.

“Ten minutes,” he assures. Which is generous all things considering.

“Of course,” Wayne agrees. He walks off and, begrudgingly, Dick follows. They walk for a while before Wayne stops and turns to him again. Dick can't say he likes being in this part of Gotham and more so, doesn't like being lead this far away from his corner. He gives Wayne an unsure look.

“I did say ten minutes,” Dick reminds him. Wayne holds out another hundred dollars and Dick hesitates a moment. Ultimately, he takes it. Two hundred bucks for twenty minutes of not actually doing anything is kind of hard to turn down. Even people who legitimately pay to waste his time usually don't spend this much.

“How much do you normally make in a night?” Wayne asks. Is he really going to pay Dick’s rate for yesterday? That would be helpful and he _is_ a billionaire. Briefly, Dick considers lying- not by much but the extra money could really help him. It's not like Wayne would ever know. In the end, Dick simply can't bring himself to do that to Batman of all people. He sighs.

“Typically? Between eight and nine hundred dollars,” he explains. After he pays his ‘cut’ for the night, he only goes home with about fifty which, believe it or not, is still generous. Wayne nods.

“Stay here,” he instructs. Since he's on Wayne's dollar right now, Dick quietly stays put. This is by no means a safe place to solicit so just standing around makes him naturally uncomfortable. He pulls out his phone just to look like he's waiting for something and ultimately, no one bothers him.

Wayne returns a few minutes later and Dick straightens back up again. He's still a little cautious, he's not fully sure what Wayne wants, but he's in a good position to bolt if need be. Wayne hands him a brown envelope. Hesitantly, Dick gives him a look before peering inside and counting the cash. His heart rate increases wildly. Nine hundred, eighteen hundred, three grand- _there's still more._

“Maybe you should take a few days off-” Wayne suggests. Dick shoves the envelope back at him and Wayne looks surprised.

“I can't take this,” he says firmly. This is way too much money. Not to mention he can't take days off. Black Mask would get suspicious and come asking questions and Dick especially doesn't want that. If he found out Dick had taken this much money without paying his cut, who knows what he'd do. Wayne tries to hand it back to him.

“Use this to take care of yourself until you find a new job,” he encourages quietly. “I can give you my card. You can come work at one of my businesses.” Dick shoves it back again.

“I can't just _quit_ ,” he assures with more bite than he means. They'd kill him. They'd kill his _brothers_. Then just because Black Mask is an idiot with rage issues, he'd get mad Dick was dead and kill more people. He knew what he was signing up for when he got into this business but it was his only option then and it's his only option now. Even if Bruce fucking Wayne is handing him a job on a silver plate, there's no guarantee Dick could even take it.

“Regardless,” Wayne continues to urge, again trying to give Dick the envelope. “Please take this. It will do you more good than it ever will me.” It is a lot of money. Dick can't just take this much money let alone use it. He gets antsy hiding away what little extra money he already does.

But it's hard. All he can think about are his brothers going hungry at home in the cold. Even if he was careful, spent just a little at a time and without raising any flag, it could change everything. Dick hesitates as he takes the envelope. It feels heavy.

“Let me do something for this,” he says.

“You've done more than enough for me,” Wayne promises. It's about more than him, though. Dick grabs his arm without thinking about it.

“Please,” he says. “I want to. And if I just show up with today’s cut, my boss will ask questions.” Wayne takes a deep breath. Finally, he relents and he nods.

“Okay,” he agrees. “You can keep me company for the night.” Dick sighs in relief and smiles. At the very least if he tells his boss Bruce Wayne picked him up, they won't act surprised he got a full night's pay in one customer. That's sort of like a day off.

“Thank you,” Dick murmurs. “Thank you so much. This means a lot to me.” Wayne smiles faintly. His nice car pulls around and he opens the door to gesture Dick in first. This part Dick is used to; quiet car rides with rich people to private places. Wayne doesn't have a lot to say, doesn't actually say anything, so neither does Dick. He makes the assumption that they're going to a hotel of some sort but it becomes clear fairly quickly that's not the case.

Dick isn't sure why he's surprised Wayne is bringing him back to his manor of all places but he is. He’s a little taken aback when Wayne gets out. Dick follows, staring up at the massive building as he goes. Wayne smiles at him before heading inside and Dick is a few paces behind him, wide eyed and awed.

“I've only been here during parties,” Dick admits. “It seems so much bigger now.”

“Parties?” Wayne questions back with an arched brow. Dick snorts a laugh.

“I have some very expensive clients that like taking me to events,” he assures as he stops to stare up at a painting. “I'm discrete and handsome. And well spoken. When they want me to speak, I mean.”

“Why did you get into this work?” Wayne asks. Dick turns to give him a look and he frowns. “Sorry. Just curious. You seem very bright.”

“It's fine,” Dick promises, wandering down to look at another painting. “I just think asking me my name first is polite.”

“I-” Wayne begins only to stop and furrow his brows.

“Looked me up?” Dick finishes. “Made sure I could be trusted with your secret, I'm sure. Found out about my brothers and my employer and whatever else you could scrounge up from clients and street sources. Didn't actually ask _me_ who I was.”

“Right,” Wayne says and he huffs a small, amused noise. “I should introduce myself then, as well. I'm Bruce Wayne. Bruce is fine. Who might you be?” Dick smiles back at him.

“Richard Grayson,” he returns. “But everyone calls me Dick.”

“It's nice to meet you, Dick,” Bruce says with that charming smile he's known for. So Dick returns it and almost immediately, Bruce’s face turns a faint pink in surprise. He's obviously never met someone who's as naturally charming as he is fake.

“And you as well, Bruce,” Dick replies. “You didn't have to bring me to your house, you know. People are going to ask questions.”

“They do that anyways,” Bruce assures. He's certainly right about that. Dick hums back in quiet agreement as he continues his exploration. He gestures to a door questioningly and Bruce gives him a nod of agreement that he can go in. It's a den of some sort, clearly. The fireplace is already going, obviously started recently, and it makes the room nice and cozy. Dick continues to browse around the room with interest.

There's so much here.

“My brothers love chess,” he comments off handedly as he runs his hand over the beautifully carved board. “In theory,” he tacks on with a laugh. They usually get angry before they ever finish a game. Bruce motions to it.

“Care for a game?” he offers. Bruce is paying him an _outrageous_ fee and he wants to play _chess_. This man is truly incredible. Even if it was out of the ‘goodness of his heart’, Dick is far beyond assuming anyone would pass on a chance to sleep with him.

“Sure,” Dick agrees with a smile. Bruce politely pulls a chair out for him, which Dick takes, and then moves to sit across from him. The board itself is already so fancy that the hand crafted pieces seem like overkill. His brothers would love this. Bruce gestures him to make the first move.

“Your brothers,” he says quietly as Dick starts their game. “How did you-?”

“We should play another game, too,” Dick suggests, interrupting yet another personal question. Instead of sex, he just seems to want to know everything Dick doesn't typically tell people. Were he anyone besides Batman, it would be concerning; it's still a little unsettling.

“What kind of game?” Bruce asks and that seriousness creeps back into his voice a little. Perhaps Dick should have phrased that in a way that didn't make it sound horribly ominous. He needs to remember that Bruce's relaxed nature is almost entirely a scam and he's likely extremely paranoid from being Batman.

“A questions game,” Dick assures. That doesn't seem to ease Bruce any. “You want to get to know me, I want to get to know you, might as well make it less awkward. I ask you a question, then you ask me a question and if I don't want to answer yours, you don't answer mine and vise versa.” Bruce presses his lips into a line unsurely. “I'll go easy on the alter ego questions, promise.”

Finally, Bruce lets out a little huff of a laugh.

“Alright,” he says. “That sounds fair. Care to start us off?” Dick hums thoughtfully for a moment.

“Don't you ever get lonely in this place by yourself?” he asks. Bruce almost seems surprised or, at any rate, he was expecting something else. One by one they move chess pieces across the board.

“Do you enjoy your job?” Bruce asks in return.

“Sometimes,” Dick says. “I like people. I like sex. I don't always like the clients. If I had more of a choice in who got my services, I'd probably enjoy it more- and be a lot safer.” He doesn't see a reason to lie, about this or anything else.

“I'm- not by myself, actually,” Bruce goes on to answer. “But no, I’m not really a ‘lonely’ kind of person.” Dick snorts a little laugh and Bruce gives an awkward smile. “How long have you been doing this?”

“How long have you been Batman?” Dick questions. Bruce mulls it over briefly, considering more if he should answer it than anything else.

“As long as Batman’s been around,” he assures. Batman's been around since he was just a kid, more than ten years now at least. The first and only. Interesting but not particularly surprising, Dick thinks.

“I've only been doing sex work for two years now, actually. Seems like a lot longer,” he says. Seven days a week, all night, ‘off’ days few and far between. It's been a long two years. “What happened to you the other night?”

“How did you get into this work?” Bruce asks.

“I needed money. I needed to take care of my brothers. A lot of the women in the complex we stayed in were sex workers so I just figured that was my best chance at consistent work,” he explains.

“Ivy happened,” Bruce says, an annoyed twinge in his voice. Dick can't stop his amused laugh but if it bothers Bruce, he doesn't show it. “If you could get away from Black Mask, would you do something else?”

“Bruce,” Dick murmurs softly. It isn't going over his head that Bruce has a very singular mindset and right now it's focused exclusively on the fact that Dick is a sex worker. He _needs_ Batman to leave Black Mask alone. “Uh, you said you weren't alone, right? Who else is here with you?”

A long pause.

“Pass,” Bruce finally says. That's a little concerning. Who else is here? “How did you end up with your brothers?” Maybe this was a bad idea, after all. Both this game and taking so much money from _the_ most dangerous man in Gotham. Dick decides it's time to get back to work. He is on paid time, after all.

“Have you ever hired a sex worker before?” he asks.

“Not for sex,” Bruce assures off handedly. That's not shocking. It's also not shocking Bruce seems to miss the implication Dick is trying to lay down.

“We were in the same orphanage,” Dick explains. “When I was old enough to be released, they ran away to come stay with me. That place was nearly the death of all of us.” Bruce frowns. “What do you like?”

“What do I like?” he repeats back. “I don't follow.”

“What's your fetish?” Dick asks. Bruce blinks in surprise, finally looking up from the chessboard to look, honestly, entirely lost. He schools it back to a more ‘curious’ expression quickly but Dick definitely saw that. It's kind of cute. “I'd guess sadism from Batman's MO but that seems too easy.”

“No,” Bruce says slowly. “I'm not a sadist-” Dick snorts a small laugh before he can stop himself and _that_ Bruce doesn't seem to appreciate but he doesn't say anything. “Dick, I'm not paying you for sex.”

“I know,” Dick assures. “You made that pretty clear. You're Bruce Wayne, though, gorgeous, charming, billionaire playboy. Just consider me another notch in your belt, money not involved.”

“Dick-” Bruce says again.

“Pardon me, am I interrupting something?” the butler questions as he enters the room. Bruce stands and Dick smiles at him briefly before looking back to the board. What good timing for more than one reason; Bruce was going to have a hard time finagling himself out of that checkmate. He stands as well.

“No, not at all,” Bruce assures. His sort of deadpan tone makes it seem dismissive almost, like Dick isn't important, but already Dick is understanding that ‘pretty boy’ persona aside, Bruce is really bad at expression. “Alfred, this is-”

“Master Grayson,” Alfred greets him and Dick smiles at him. “You have hidden in my pantry during more than one gala, I think I would remember you.”

“Hi Alfred,” Dick greets back. “And sorry about that. Again.” Alfred offers him a smile before turning to give Bruce a questioning look. He knows Dick is a sex worker and obviously isn't sure what he's doing here now. Alone. Not with someone else.

“I'll tell you later,” Bruce assures curtly.

“Would you care for a drink, Master Grayson,” Alfred offers and he holds the severing platter out for him. Dick takes one of the glasses of scotch and Bruce takes the other.

“Thank you,” Dick says politely. He shouldn't drink with clients, normally doesn't, but he thinks he can make a lot of exceptions for _Batman_ \- and the thousands of dollars he was given.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce agrees. Alfred gives a slight nod and wanders off again. Dick sips his drink quietly and Bruce is awkwardly silent for a moment. Maybe he stepped over a line after all. “Dick,” he says again.

“Hm,” Dick replies and he settles himself on the couch. Bruce comes to sit with him, keeping an arm's distance between them, of course.

“I didn't give you money so you'd have sex with me,” he says, far softer this time. Dick huffs a small, amused noise against the lip of his cup. “You're a good kid.”

“Bruce,” he replies with a sigh. “I promise, I know you didn't. I know when people, men especially, are trying to manipulate me. You're _Batman_. You see someone in trouble and you help them.” Bruce seems relieved that he understand and he nods vaguely in not agreement, but acknowledgement at least.

“But,” Dick goes on. “This is what I _do_ , Bruce. I sleep with people- _powerful_ people. It's not always about the money. This is how I keep my life going.”

“All the more reason-” Bruce begins. Dick cuts him off- he cuts off Bruce Wayne, powerful billionaire _Batman_.

“All the more reason,” he repeats matter-of-factly. “If you’re not so completely abhorrent to sleeping with a sex worker, I am more than _willing_ to show you exactly what I'm capable of.” At the end of the day, Dick has already read Bruce like an open book. Knowing what people like is an important part of his job and catering to that keeps his client base full and his work moving.

The big, bad, lonely Batman who thinks he'll hurt anything he touches too hard.

Bruce doesn't say anything for a long time, looking at Dick unsurely as he sips his drink a little faster than leisurely. Dick looks back at him, not flinching let alone so much as looking away. He's not going to give Bruce a fraction of a _hint_ that Dick is intimidated by him- because he's not. The silence rolls on.

“I know people can be unsure about sleeping with sex workers, especially the first time,” Dick finally says instead. He puts his own glass aside. “That's why I said to forget about the money. Tonight, I'm just another handsome face you charmed into coming home with you, okay? Sweet, charming, cute, _playboy_ Bruce Wayne lures another man to his bed for company in his big, lonely manor.”

Dick moves closer to his side of the couch and Bruce almost seems- nervous? He sets his hand on Bruce's knee, softly and questioningly, and Bruce just continues to look at him like he's not sure what to make of this situation. Perhaps rather, Dick considers, he's struggling with himself. Bruce is quite a bit older than him after all. His eyes fall to Dick's hand as Dick slowly moves to the inside of his knee and caresses it suggestively.

“It's okay, Bruce,” Dick assures gently. “You're a good man. Even you deserve to have some fun sometimes.” Bruce closes his eyes. Taking that as a small sign of waning, Dick moves closer. He puts his other hand on Bruce's shoulder and kneading his fingers into the firm, tense muscle there pulls a sigh from Bruce's lips. “Especially with someone like me, right? You don't have to hide your other ‘self’ from me- or what he wants.”

“Dick,” Bruce says again as Dick slowly trails his hand further up the inside of his leg. Dick hums back quietly. Honestly at this point, he can't imagine Bruce, or Batman, wanting anything Dick couldn't handle. Bruce is just a boy who wants attention and praise and those are two things Dick is fortunately very good at.

“I won't kiss you on the mouth if you don't want but can I kiss you here?” Dick asks, brushing his fingers against Bruce's neck. It takes a moment and the response is slight, but he nods. Dick settles in closer and he can feel Bruce's already solid form completely rigid even while looking relaxed from a distance. He's so tense and Dick has no doubt this isn't his doing. Softly, he kisses the side of Bruce's neck, rubbing the inside of his thigh with one hand and using the other to tousle the nape of his neck.

Gradually, extremely, extremely gradually, Dick feels Bruce start to ease.

“Dick,” he repeats yet again, almost as if he likes saying Dick's name. “I haven't actually bedded men before.” Dick comes to a halt. He almost wants to laugh, that seems to stunningly ridiculous, but obviously Bruce is telling the truth.

“I'm sorry, are you straight?” Dick asks incredulously. “Should I stop?”

“No,” Bruce says then repeats, “no, it's alright. It's not that I don't have a want to but rather, bedding women is-”

“Easier,” Dick finishes rather knowingly. “No one wants to be Bruce Wayne's ‘secret’ gay love affair.” Not that it would turn out that way, Dick is sure, but he sees the problem. When women flock to his side anyway, why even bother putting in the effort for something else. Dick is starting to wonder if Bruce even likes his playboy life.

“Right,” Bruce agrees.

“Bruce, I, uh,” Dick pulls away a little and rubs the back of his head awkwardly. “I mean, people have hired me to be their first before. Of, uh, lots of different things but if you don't want your first time with a man to be with me, I understand.” There's a split second, Dick almost misses it, where Bruce seems puzzled.

“You're just a handsome young man I charmed home,” Bruce assures. “Why would I have an issue with that?” Dick laughs quietly. Oh boy, he's definitely giving Bruce some mixed signals here. He needs to be careful.

“Okay, I brought that on myself,” he agrees in amusement. Bruce sets his drink aside and finally, offers some tentative reciprocation. He wraps an arm around Dick's waist, carefully drawing them back together, and Dick leans into him. “Let's meet in the middle then.”

“You have a suggestion?” Bruce asks. Dick goes back to nuzzling his neck, placing little kisses along his skin. He's still incredibly tense but he's warm and his company is almost soothing, really. Like Dick doesn't have to be worried about anything when he's around.

“No sex,” Dick says. “Just some heavy petting.” Bruce's hand squeezes his waist faintly.

“I think I can agree to that,” he murmurs softly. Dick grins against his skin. It might not be a night off but that doesn't mean it can't be on the easy side. Needless to say, he thinks he already has Bruce's full attention: how many people know Batman's real identity? Still, it never hurts to make sure he leaves a lasting impression. Dick doesn't see pulling Bruce in as a client but potentially working his way in as a friend could happen.

This could change his whole life.

“And kissing is fine,” Bruce offers almost off handedly. So Dick tests that out. He cards his fingers through the back of Bruce's hair and leans up the distance needed to catch his lips. Any hesitations he might have had are gone and he responds to the kiss casually. Good to know he can turn that playboy persona on at the drop of a dime. Dick paws at the inside of his thigh while he lets Bruce show off his skillful tongue. In return, Bruce strokes the skin between his shirt and waistband with his fingers and follows the curve of his hip slowly.

Unsurprisingly, the Wayne manor has good booze and from what little Dick had, he's comfortably lax. Dick might have gotten into this business to keep a roof over his and his brothers’ heads but he's made himself learn to enjoy it. Things like this help. It's not so much the gentleness, lots of clients are gentle, or that Bruce is attractive, plenty of clients are attractive, too.

It's just easy to pretend Bruce sees him as a real person.

Dick guides them along, encouraging Bruce to touch and feel as he wants and in return, doing much the same. He's more cautious of where Bruce was injured, kisses along his collar and behind his ear, and eventually moves himself into Bruce's lap. Bruce really is huge and Dick is never more aware of that then when he's perched in the man's lap with two broad hands on his ass. If Bruce were anyone else, Dick would probably be weary but with him, it's just comfortable.

With how big Bruce is, it's no surprise he's very well endowed, too. He grinds down in Bruce's lap but keeps it light- as much as it would be amusing to make Batman come in his pants.

And that's it. They kiss and touch and rub and honestly, Dick sort of expected Bruce to get fed up with it and eventually go for something more but he never does. The sheer amount of time that Bruce seems to enjoy this is surprising, too. Dick isn't sure when he _would_ stop if left up to him but when Dick apologizes and says he has to go, Bruce just agrees. He seems drunk almost; Dick isn't sure if he is or if he was just that starved for physical contact.

He sends Dick home in a private car with the thousands of dollars burning a hole in his pocket.

X

Dick doesn't see Bruce for a while and honestly, he doesn't fully expect to. Bruce is a busy man between his Batman shtick and his busy billionaire life. He definitely has better things to do than hang around someone like Dick. Besides the occasional check up, Dick doesn't think he'll be seeing him often.

Still, it's not shocking to see Bruce turn up while he's working. At least he seems to inherently understand not to show up at Dick's home under any circumstances. Dick grins at him as he approaches and in return, Bruce smiles minutely. So no trouble it seems. Bruce obviously took what he said to heart about not messing with Black Mask too. It's been a quiet two weeks. His black eye has healed up well.

“Good evening, Dick,” Bruce greets.

“Hey Bruce,” Dick replies. “Haven't seen you in a while. What can I do for you tonight?” It's been a fairly busy night and, fortunately, Bruce _is_ a paying customer. Talking to him on the clock doesn't bother Dick so much now. Bruce clears his throat.

“Nothing tonight,” he assures. “There's a gala coming up, however, and I thought you might like to accompany me to it.” Dick arches a brow at him.

“You want to hire a sex worker to bring to a gala?” he asks curiously. “I know I said I'm discreet but on your arm, there's only so much I can do.”

“I was thinking more as a date,” Bruce says. Oh. Yeah. Dick saw this coming. He sighs deeply and gives Bruce a somber little smile.

“Sorry Bruce, I have work that night,” he says with a little shrug, fully aware both of them know Bruce didn't mention a date or time. “You should find one of your lady friends to accompany you. Or guy friends. Step out of your comfort zone a little.” Bruce frowns.

“I'm not trying to get out of paying you,” he assures.

“I know, Bruce,” Dick agrees. “But I'm a sex worker, not a date. I appreciate it but you made it pretty clear how uncomfortable you are with that.” The more he thinks about it, the more he thinks he would have strangled Bruce with his bare hands if their question game had gone on much longer. Bruce’s face firms into something more familiar.

“It doesn't make me uncomfortable,” he says plainly. “Black Mask makes me uncomfortable. Clients that do that-” he gestures to the bruises on Dick's wrist and Dick irritably crosses his arms to hide them. “Make me uncomfortable. I don't care if you have sex for money, I care that it's going to get you killed.”

Dick looks somewhere else in annoyance. He wants to argue but he's not sure what to. Even the bruises he can't argue today. Sometimes he does take clients with sadist streaks and they pay very well to bruise him to hell and back but these in particular are from a client Dick _knows_ has a habit of crossing lines. Still, Dick keeps doing work for him because he'll pay and he knows one day he'll probably go too far and Dick will have to use extreme force to make him stop.

He's not the only client like that.

Bruce acts like Dick wouldn't _love_ to do anything else; wouldn't love to be taken to a gala like a real date and showed off as a lover and not some high ticket item.

“Yeah? Well, promise me you'll get my brothers as far away from Gotham as you can when you find my dead body, alright?” Dick says and it might be far more full of venom than he means because Bruce clenches his jaw hard enough it looks like it might snap off. “Are you just going to waste my time today, then?”

“The gala,” Bruce says again. Dick sighs exasperatedly. Figures Bruce is just another rich man who doesn't know how to take ‘no’ for an answer. “How much?”

“I can see the tabloids now; ‘Bruce Wayne pays male escort for charity event’,” Dick says dramatically. “‘Bruce Wayne plays dumb when asked about his date's work experience’.”

“How much to take you to the gala?” Bruce asks again. To what little benefit Dick can give him, he doesn't sound impatient. “You said you have other clients that take you to events so how much.” Dick stares at him stubbornly for a long time and Bruce stares back. Neither of them want to budge.

It's hard. Dick doesn't want to encourage this behavior, definitely doesn't want to keep leading him on, but escorts jobs are the easiest on him. He won't have to take any other clients that day, he can mingle with other rich people, maybe even get some extra cash, and Black Mask is happy- or _amused_ at least. Plus Bruce is, even with his attitude tonight, bearable to be around. Dick exhales mildly.

“Base package is one fifty an hour,” he says. “Kissing and touching included. Sex is extra. _Public_ sex is double. Requirements on how I should behave are extra. You want me to wear something specific, you buy it, otherwise I have perfectly acceptable black tie wear.”

“Fine,” Bruce agrees sternly and he takes his wallet out. Needless to say, it's easy to find out how much Bruce owes him since he isn't interested in paying for sex. Also needless to say, Bruce overpays him. “‘Base package’, six hours. Wear your own clothes. This Saturday.”

“Consider me booked,” Dick says scathingly as he pockets the money. “I'll see you Saturday, Mr. Wayne.” Bruce inhales in a way that distinctly says he's not happy about the way this went but he ultimately leaves without saying anything else. Once he's gone, Dick exhales tiredly and ruffles his hair in his hands.

He stares at the bruises on his wrists.

X

“Tim!” Dick calls. “Did you finish your homework?”

“Yes!” Tim calls back.

“Finish your homework!” Dick instructs as he finishes pinning his curls down with bobby pins. He hears an exasperated groan.

“I _did_!” Tim insists. Dick starts applying his face mask to his freshly shaven and scrubbed face.

“Show me!” he replies. There's a brief pause before Tim scoffs. Dick laughs quietly to himself in the mirror.

“How come you never ask Jason if he finishes his homework?” Tim asks irritably.

“Jason doesn't have a D minus for not turning in homework!” Dick assures.

“No, he just has detention again for smoking in the bathroom,” Tim says.

“You little snitch!” Jason barks as Dick throws the bathroom door open.

“ _Jason_!” he snaps. Jason moves to escape over the back of the couch and Dick grabs him by the back of the shirt. He limps like a scolded cat caught by the scruff. “What did I say about stealing?”

“I didn't steal them,” Jason scoffs back angrily.

“Oh? Where'd you get them, then?” Dick asks. He watches Jason's face as he realises the problem he's talked himself into. Dick waits patiently for him to figure how to talk himself back out of it. He either stole them or paid for them and neither answer is good.

“I got ‘em from’a friend,” he finally says. Jason doesn't have _friends_.

“What's this friend's name? I'll gladly call and have a talk with their parents,” he assures.

“ _Nonya_ ,” Jason bites. Dick sighs.

“Give them to me,” he instructs.

“The school already took ‘em,” Jason assures. Dick gives him a mild look. He digs into Jason's pockets and Jason lets out an annoyed huff when he finds them as expected. Letting go of his shirt, he looks at the carton.

“Black Devils? Jason, where _did_ you get these?” Dick asks.

“I lifted them from one of your shitty clients, ‘ight?” Jason admits begrudgingly as he tosses himself back down on the couch. He thinks all of Dick's clients are shitty- not that he's necessarily wrong just unspecific.

“Do I have to remind you what happens if they call CPS on us?” Dick questions, a little softer. Jason makes a face.

“No one at that school cares enough ‘bout what happens to us to call anyone,” he assures.

“They don't have to care, they just have to have enough of you not behaving,” Dick says. Jason looks elsewhere defiantly and Dick sighs. He presses the edges of his face mask back into place.

“What's with the spa day, anyway? Not pretty enough already for one’a ya clients?” Jason asks scathingly.

“A new client, actually,” Dick says. “He's taking me to a gala tonight. First impressions and all that. He's- nice.”

“Yeah?” Jason snorts. “What's wrong with him? Mysterious track record of missin’ boyfriends? Henches for Joker? Kicks puppies?” Tim laughs quietly but Dick just gives him an unamused look. “What? You don't get hired by ‘nice’ people in this city.”

“He's nice,” Dick repeats. He's more annoyed that Jason isn't even wrong but in this case, Bruce's big, ‘mean’ secret is that he's Batman. “If I play my cards right, we might actually get out from under Mask’s thumb.”

“Is this gonna end up like the last time you said that?” Jason asks mildly. Dick opens his mouth briefly to respond but he's not sure what to say. He looks away. “I- sorry. I didn't- mean it like that.”

“It's okay,” he says softly. “I hope it doesn't, Jason. I really do.” Jason just kind of shrugs in nonchalant agreement. Bruce isn't like that. He's _not_.

“Help Tim with his homework while I finish getting ready,” Dick instructs.

“I don't need help,” Tim assures indignantly. “I just don't want to do it.”

“I know you don't,” Dick replies. “But I need you to pass your classes and that means not having a _D minus_. They're only going to let me get away with the ‘dad was busy so here I am’ story for so long.” Tim groans.

“Help your brother,” Dick says again. “Please.” Jason rolls his eyes as he rocks back into a sitting position and then wanders over to plop down next to Tim. Truth be told, Dick knows Tim _understands_ the material, he just needs someone to make him do it or, in Jason's case, someone to help him stay engaged so he'll finish it. Dick returns to the bathroom.

Unless clients specifically asked him to ‘clean up’, Dick generally doesn't go to this length. This is Bruce Wayne, though, and Dick needs to be the most expensive looking thing at this gala. He's worked hard for his spotless complexion but still, he uses a bit of makeup to brighten his features. The sight of his wrists catches his attention again and he stops to look at them. A few days later and his bruises are still here, now turning a gross yellow colour around the edges. His shirt cuffs should hide them.

Dick unpins his hair and carefully shapes his curls into place. He checks himself in the mirror for any final touches. His hair is done, his face perfect, he's trimmed, shaven, and softened as he should be. It always takes all day but hell if it doesn't make Dick feel good about himself. He's gorgeous.

He can't wait for the tabloids to call him a ‘whore’.

Sighing to himself, Dick starts getting dressed. Fortunately, having high end clients means he gets lots of gifts. Sure, he'd prefer having heat in the house or _food_ , but he won't turn down some nice clothes he'll eventually pawn off to buy his brothers new clothes. The backhanded beauty products he appreciates much less but they come in handy. He looks himself over in the mirror again as he buttons his shirt up.

Almost, Dick thinks, he can almost pretend this is a real date.

He looks at the carton of cigarettes he's taken from Jason. There's only a few of his clients that smoke this brand in particular and Dick doesn't want to think about why Jason would be anywhere near any of them. Expensive clients also mean Dick's work with them is rarely unnoticed. Even the richest clients can't stop every tabloid from running off at the mouth; his brothers often make a habit of finding out who Dick's clients are. This one won't take them long.

Dick empties the cigarettes out, flushing them to ensure Jason doesn't come rummaging around for them later. He pulls a drawer completely out from the sink cabinet and reaches behind it to pull down an envelope. Taking a few bills out, he rolls them up and fits them inside the empty cigarette carton before putting everything back.

When he leaves the bathroom, Tim sits up immediately and holds up the sheet of paper he has.

“Is that all of it?” Dick asks with an arched brow.

“It's Saturday,” Jason insists. “He can finish the rest tomorrow.”

“Yeah, this took me like five minutes,” Tim agrees. Dick laughs.

“Alright, fine, if you make sure he does,” he says and Jason rolls his eyes but nods. “Go get dressed, Tim. Wear something warm.” Tim reluctantly gets to his feet and strays off to the bedroom. Jason gets up as well and brushes himself off minutely. Dick puts a hand on his shoulder, making Jason make a face at him, but he puts the carton firmly in his hand.

“Jason,” Dick says firmly and immediately Jason is at full attention, clutching the cigarette box. “I want you to take your brother and catch a train downtown, out of Black Mask territory. Stay _out_ of Joker territory _and_ Two-Face, understand?”

“Dick, I'm not-” Jason begins.

“Do you understand?” Dick presses.

“Yeah,” Jason says softly. “I understand.”

“Good,” Dick says and he slowly lets Jason's hand go. “Get something good to eat. Have some _fun_. Just be careful and stay out of trouble- for me. My client's paid for six hours but I might be home sooner than that- or later, you know the deal. Try to be back here before midnight, okay?”

“Okay,” Jason agrees, quickly pocketing the carton again. “I'll text you.” Dick smiles at him. His brothers are good kids. Maybe a little troubled, maybe a little bad at coping, but good kids. Dick ruffles Tim's hair as he comes back out in his hand me down sweater, too big for him but soft and warm. Jason growing out of his clothes too fast has been an issue for a long time now and it doesn't look to be stopping any time soon. Even Dick wears his hand me downs now.

“I need to get going,” Dick assures. “Behave. Don't follow me. Call Sionis if you don't hear from me by noon. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Good luck,” Tim offers quietly. Dick smiles at him.

X

Alright Gotham rain, behave.

Dick makes his way down to his usual corner and apologises to the client waiting there for him. He gives the lady a raincheck, promising he'll be back tomorrow night, and she doesn't give him any problems. A little disappointment but that's it.

Fortunately, the car Bruce sends arrives sooner than later. Dick hastily gets in before any more clients show up or the cloud covering gets any worse. He didn't actually expect Bruce to be here and he blinks when he comes face to face with him. Of course, he doesn't look much different than usual. Bruce Wayne doesn't _clean_ up; he always looks his best. Dick offers him a sheepish little smile and Bruce offers one back.

“You look nice,” Bruce compliments.

“Thank you,” Dick replies and he lets himself settle into the seat. They both look up as rain begins to pitter patter on the top of the car. “Almost didn't.”

“Here,” Bruce says and he pulls a little box out of his jacket pocket. “For you.” Dick gives him a curiously suspicious look as he takes it and opens it up. He laughs, unable to help himself. Gold Batman symbol cufflinks and tie pin. He covers his eyes with his hand to keep from laughing too hard.

“You're a work of art, you know that, Bruce?” Dick assures. Bruce grins at him. He takes the time to fix the cufflinks to his shirt and pretends, the entire time, that Bruce isn't staring at the gnarly bruises on his wrists. They'll be hidden the rest of the time. Then he fixes the tie pin to his shirt and tie and straightens the wrinkles back out of his clothes. He makes a gesture silently asking how they look.

“Very fitting,” Bruce says. Dick almost feels bad knowing one day he'll just be pawning them off somewhere.

“So, do I get to know what this gala is for or do I just hang on your arm and nod when you talk?” he asks as he neatly crosses his legs and makes himself comfortable for the ride over. Bruce seems a little less stressed than he had been either occasional prior though Dick couldn't for sure say why. He is an odd man though the initial reading Dick took of him really hasn't changed so far.

“A fifty year celebration for a Gotham based company,” Bruce explains.

“Not one of yours?” Dick asks curiously. Bruce shakes his head. “But they invite you because not inviting Bruce Wayne might as well be social suicide. Not going, however, wouldn't be for you. Friends of yours?”

“Not particularly,” Bruce says. “Our business ethics don't see eye to eye. My company has nearly bankrupted them more than once. With no kids, there's rumor they're looking to get out of the business.” Dick arches a brow at him. Scooping out a party with people who don't necessarily like him in hopes of buying it up doesn't sound like a Wayne thing to do. He supposes he doesn't usually follow Wayne business practices that closely, though.

“So are you looking to make an impression or find out if it's worth your time?” Dick questions.

“A little of both,” Bruce assures.

“Why bother bringing me, then? I'm not exactly going to make a good impression if they find out my occupation,” he says.

“I enjoy your company,” Bruce replies simply. “And I'm not interested in mingling with anyone who finds your work shameful or disgusting, either.”

“You're setting the bar awfully high for your rich friends,” Dick says. Bruce doesn't seem to bothered by that. It's almost nice. He can see what Bruce is trying to do, sway him from his lifestyle by treating him ‘extra nice’, and Dick isn't going to fall for it but it is nice nonetheless. If Bruce can find a way to get him out of Mask’s workforce without anyone getting hurt over it, more power to him, but he doesn't personally see that happening.

The gala is on the smaller side and when they arrive, no one greets them or anything. Bruce politely helps him out of the car and Dick takes his arm as they head inside. ‘Smaller scale’ doesn't mean much to people as rich as these. There's still tons of people mingling in their fancy outfits, extravagant decorations, expensive food, and bland entertainment. Bruce waves a greeting at some people that recognise him but no one approaches him right out.

For the first time in a long time, Dick feels a little out of place here. It's not the party that makes him feel out but rather being here with Bruce. Usually his clients aren't as well known, or liked, as Bruce is. This isn't going to go well. Dick makes sure to stick close on his arm and tries not to draw any attention to himself immediately. Unfortunately, he fears he's as distinct as Bruce is.

Bruce takes a flute of something bubbly to hand to him and Dick thanks him quietly.

“You suddenly seem nervous,” he comments curiously. “I thought you'd be used to these kind of things.”

“I am,” Dick assures. “I'm not use to feeling like a mob is going to drag me outside for so much as breathing in the general vicinity of Gotham’s most eligible bachelor.” Bruce laughs.

“A little dramatic, don't you think?” he asks. Dick glances around at the handful of ever changing people that stare at them with various degrees of emotion. Dramatic, sure. He doesn't get an opportunity to answer as a man approaches them with a grin and gets all of Bruce's attention- surely for the better.

“Bruce! I haven't seen you in a while. Who's your friend?” The man nods at Dick and Bruce gestures to him.

“This is my date,” he explains and Dick swears the man's eyebrows disappear under his wig. Dick offers his hand to politely shake which the man accepts, of course.

“Richard Grayson,” Dick introduces himself. “Dick is fine, though.”

“Wow, I knew you were a womanizer, I didn't think you played both fields.”

This is how it's going to be all night, is it? ‘Oh you're into men?’ ‘Are you gay now?’ ‘Batting for the other team, eh.’ Dick withholds the want to rolls his eyes already. The man doesn't actually introduce himself, perhaps he thinks Dick should already know him, but he and Bruce get into talking and jesting with each other in a friendly way. If Dick thought Bruce's facade was bad before, this is altogether a different terrible. He's like a completely different man.

They talk about _business_ and _mergers_ and _stocks_ and Dick already wants to claw his eyes out. Of course, he doesn't let that show. He smiles and looks pretty and pretends to be engaged and paying attention whenever they look at him but he's not listening even a little bit. Instead, he looks around to investigate the crowd.

Ultimately, Dick isn't surprised to see at least one past client here. There's enough people that, hopefully, any others aren't going to notice or recognise him but again, he is with _the_ Bruce Wayne. He might as well be wearing a giant beacon that says ‘ask me what I do for a living’. No one's going to make a scene at the party, obviously, but plenty of them will run their mouths off at whichever journalist asks first- or that they can get to listen to them first.

Dick's red flags go off.

It's alarming and he quickly tunes into the conversation at hand to make sure it's not Bruce or the other guy that has set it off. Unsurprisingly, it's not. Now alert, Dick scans the area around him for the threat. A man, standing by himself with an awkward hand on his hip. Not a gun, Dick can say with as much certainty as he can say this man shouldn't be here. A small scan around makes it fairly obvious he's not the only one, either. Dick assesses the situation quickly.

Bruce looks at him curiously when he detaches from his arm and wanders away. Dick takes a drink from his flute, otherwise untouched, and when he gets close enough he stumbles. He bumps into the man hard, knocking him into someone else and spilling his drink all over the front of him. Several people gasp and scatter as the man harshly pushes Dick away.

“Hey! Watch where the hell you're going!” he snaps.

“I'm so sorry,” Dick urges, holding his hands up placidly. “Oh my god, I can pay for that, I promise.”

“Just get away from me,” the man barks irritably. Definitely not supposed to be here. Bruce hurries over and quickly grabs Dick by the shoulders.

“Excuse my friend,” he says. “Come along, Dick. _Now_.” Bruce leads him away at once, setting his flute side and awkwardly dragging him off towards one of the halls where there's less people mingling and it's a little quieter. They dip into an empty room and Bruce lets him go.

“Here to make a good impression, huh?” Dick asks in amusement.

“What was that?” Bruce replies mildly but, unsurprisingly, he doesn't seem angry. Dick steps a little closer and cautiously reveals the little device he swiped off the man. Bruce's face firms up suddenly.

“So, do you need like a distraction to slip off or are you good to go?” Dick asks. Bruce gives him a look as he takes it and carefully slips it into the inside pocket of his coat. “You know, willingly bringing me into danger is usually grounds for getting blacklisted.”

“Stay here,” Bruce instructs. “You'll be safe back here.” Dick doesn't argue. He watches Bruce leave, likely to change into his alter ego, and waits a couple minutes before slipping out of the room. _Safe back here_ , yeah right. If he gets cornered by himself, he's screwed. Not to mention he _isn't_ getting tagged for stealing something or giving anyone any reason to think he's with the bad guys here.

Dick wanders to the food display for a snack. Yuck, always with the tiny shrimp and caviar at these things. He helps himself to some tiny sandwiches.

“Now boys!”

The party goes quiet. Dick arches a brow as nothing happens for several moments. He sticks some cheese and crackers in his mouth.

“Where are the fireworks, you dolt! The fireworks _made_ the whole thing! Aw forget it, you guys don't get it.” Is that Harley Quinn? He gets confirmation as she hops up onto the banister and hangs off a supporting beam up above the crowd. These aren't her usual henchmen. Sort of like how Ivy was using generic henchmen as well.

Curious.

“Now, let's see some pretty things!” Harley instructs as her rent-a-gang start their violent crowd controls. The doors are all barred, of course, trapping everyone in the main room until they're done. Dick glances up at the massive glass window at the back of the stairs. It's still raining. Henchmen start corralling people around, snatching off anything that looks valuable and searching pockets for wallets and cash. No way this is just a robbery.

“You,” someone barks at him and Dick finishes shoving a tiny sandwich in his mouth before raising his hands. He hasn't eaten all day, okay? “Pockets, empty ‘em.” Dick swallows.

“I don't have anything?” he assures awkwardly. Of course it's the one he spilled his drink on. Why not.

“Bullshit,” the man snaps back. “You're here with Wayne. Hand over the goods.” Dick isn't a dumbass that carries money with him in Gotham. He starts taking off his cufflinks, honestly the only real thing of value he has, and the henchman snarls at him irritably. When he gets closer, obviously planning to physically search him, Dick kicks him in the jaw with one good high kick. While he's disorientated, Dick grabs his gun and twists it out of his hand.

Quickly, he turns the safety on, takes the magazine out, and pops the one in the chamber. He then to proceeds to knock the man out with his own gun. Alright one down. That was probably a mistake.

“Hey! What's happening over there?”

The lights go out. Dick sighs in relief and a few moments later, Batman crashes through the giant window. It's chaos after that. With the henchmen all distracted with Bruce, the rich people flock to the doors to try to get away, yanking and pulling like the giant spoon fed toddlers they are. Dick shoves another sandwich in his mouth before moving to help. He grabs an expensive looking decoration, heavy and solid, and makes his way through the crowd of people with some force.

Everyone backs off and Dick breaks the handles off the double doors, taking the chains with them. He pushes them open and hurriedly motions everyone to get out. No one has to be told twice. Dick heads back inside to make sure everyone's out. He keeps down low and near the walls, avoiding the messy fight going on between Bruce and the villains. It's dark enough that he really only sees Batman during the occasional muzzle flash.

Dick encourages any cowarding people to very slowly and quietly make their way outside before they get caught in the crossfire. Once he's sure everyone is out, he makes for his own exit.

“Well lookie what we have here.” Harley cuts him off at the door. Dick backs away. “I _know_ you!” He really wishes that wasn't the case. Wearily, he takes another step back and she comes closer. Behind him he can still hear Bruce in the midst of things. “Wouldn't it be a _shame_ if somethin’ happened ta the boss’ favorite?”

Dick really wishes she didn't know him. Harley swings at him fast and with little warning.

“No!” Bruce yells.

“Aw, where'd he go?” Harley says with a pout. _Thank you natural born acrobatics_. Dick hurriedly hops off her hammar and onto the trim on the wall. There's not much to grab onto but he swiftly shimmies his way to solid ground as Batman lunges at Harley full force. They scuffle as Dick climbs over the banister of the stairs and keeps himself low to watch everything unfold.

When Harley realises she's out of her depth, she makes with her escape plan, leaving behind her unconscious henchmen. Dick watches Bruce chase after her and waits a bit before finally wandering back down the stairs and slipping outside. By the time he does, of course, the police have arrived and immediately he's right in their line of sight for the door. He just really can't catch a break today, can he? The GCPD _know_ he's a sex worker and _will_ arrest him for _anything_.

Well, it's not raining.

“Dick!” Bruce calls. Dick is both confused and relieved when Bruce rushes forward to his side. Seeing he's with Wayne, a few of the cops give him a suspicious look but obviously know better. They back off without actually doing anything. Dick watches as they push their way inside the mansion. Bruce hurriedly takes him by the shoulders.

“Bruce?” Dick replies curiously. “Are you, uh, okay?”

“I got locked out of the hall,” Bruce says- a lie but it's not for Dick. They're absolutely surrounded by people. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“I'm okay,” Dick assures with a sheepish laugh. “But- can we go? I really don't want to give a statement to the police if you don't mind.” As good at this charade as Bruce is, Dick's sure he feels the same. Sure enough, Bruce is more than happy to sneak them through the crowd back to his private car.

Dick lets out a relieved breath once they're inside. He loosens his tie and unbuttons the top few buttons of his shirt. This isn't the first time he's been in an altercation while working but they're never very fun.

“I told you to stay put,” Bruce says and it's suddenly back to his _real_ voice and his _real_ calculated coldness. Just inherently it rubs Dick the wrong way and in return, he finds himself just as upset.

“What you didn't tell me was that you thought something was going to go down tonight,” he replies scathingly. “ _Enjoy my company_ , yeah right. What? Thought you could scare me off my ‘lifestyle’ with this?” Almost immediately, Bruce seems to deflate some.

“That wasn't my intention,” he says firmly.

“No? Then what _was_ , Bruce?” Dick demands. “To get me hurt? To embarrass me when the tabloids post their ‘Wayne _whore_ causes property damage to estate’ articles? Why bring _me_? Why bring anyone at all.” Bruce is silent for several long, crawling moments. It's not as if Dick is ignorant to the fact that obviously he has some ulterior motives. Most people do.

“Did you recognise any of those men?” he finally asks. Dick isn't sure what he expected but somehow, it wasn't this.

“What?” he replies incredulously.

“From the night you found me unconscious, did you recognise any of those men?” he asks again, forgoing his rough exterior for something a little softer. This random change of how he presents himself is starting to get old, fast.

“Did you seriously put me in danger to _ID your culprits_?” Dick demands. Bruce neither confirms or denies. He plays that ‘strategically’ silent card and Dick debates strangling him. “ _Because you enjoy my company_. You're a joke, you know that, Bruce? You're a work of fucking art.”

“I do enjoy your company,” Bruce assures like it's some kind of condolence prize.

“You know the worst part? I thought for a second there, you almost had an ounce of respect for me as a person,” Dick says. The way Bruce is reacting, shirking almost both in shame and _disbelief_ , makes Dick believe he's never been properly scolded in his life. Which, somehow, also isn't shocking.

“I do,” he urges with some irritation. “Dick-”

“No,” Dick cuts him off. “Because if you did, at literally any point maybe you would have thought to _ask_ me to come along to _ID violent criminals_ instead of trying to pass it off as a _free date_.”

“I wasn't trying to get out of paying you,” Bruce says stubbornly. “I _wanted_ your company tonight. I didn't want you to think I was only bringing you along to use you.”

“How's that working out for you, Bruce?” Dick asks scathingly. He rolls his eyes when Bruce, again, doesn't say anything. Shaking his head and crossing his arms, he turns himself to face out the window instead. “Incredible. No, I didn't actually recognise any of them. They were wearing the same gear and uniform Ivy’s men were that night, though, and Harley recognised me as part of the False Facers. This was a distraction, I can guarantee it.”

“Thank you,” Bruce says.

“You're welcome,” Dick replies curtly. Not a moment too soon, they arrive at his corner. Bruce couldn't give him enough money to make him finish the six hours he was paid for and obviously Bruce is smart enough to have already realised that. He gets out and takes a moment to breath the cool Gotham air before looking back in the car at Bruce.

“I hope one day you find what you're looking for, Bruce,” he says. “I really, really do. Good night, Bruce.”

“Good night, Dick.”

Dick walks the rest of the way home trying to clear his head and not let himself be angry. Bruce isn't used to people knowing his identity, that's all. He thinks if he tells people the truth they'll get hurt- or he'll get hurt. Or both. He's not used to people like Dick. That's what he tells himself but shockingly, it doesn't really make him all that less upset. There's a dull throb in his side he knows is a bruise forming. He might have been quick enough to grab onto Harley’s mallet before full contact but the blow was still rough and he loathes what his side is going to look like in the morning.

Slipping inside his apartment, it looks like his brothers are already home. It's early but they probably saw the news and rushed home to make sure he was okay. Thank god for brothers, there's a container of food waiting in the fridge for him. When Dick closes the fridge door, Tim is suddenly beside him.

“Your new client is Bruce Wayne?” he asks with starry eyes. Dick pops the food in the microwave before starting to pull his overly fancy clothes off.

“Was,” Dick replies. “Not sure if he'll be back after tonight.”

“Couldn't answer a single text?” Jason asks mildly.

“Sorry,” Dick murmurs. “It's been a long night. Here, put these away for me, please.” He hands Jason the cufflinks and tie pin and Jason gives them a disgusted look before shoving them in his pocket to hide later.

“Bruce Wayne is Batman!” Tim urges.

“No he's not,” Jason scoffs back.

“Yes he is,” Tim replies quickly. “You were there, Dick. Where was Bruce when Batman showed up?”

“Huh?” Dick murmurs tiredly, leaning against the counter to shove food in his face. “I dunno, Tim, sorry. We got separated when everything kicked off. He said he got locked out of the hall.”

“See,” Tim insists. “Bruce mysteriously vanishes and Batman shows up.”

“That's not proof,” Jason says. “Bruce Wayne is a coward. He was probably hidin’ while Dick helped everyone out.”

“Bruce Wayne is built like a fucking house-” Tim says.

“Language,” Dick scolds.

“Why would he be afraid of anything?” Tim urges.

“Because he's a big rich baby who's never dealt with confrontation in his life,” Jason answers mildly. “What's Wayne doing hirin’ a escort, anyways? And why’d you call him ‘nice’? Wayne is like the epitome of rich jerks who say they wanna fix stuff and never do.”

“I don't know, Jason,” Dick says placidly. “I don't exactly pry into my client’s lives or why they hire me.”

“Because he's _Batman_ ,” Tim insists again. “It all makes sense. He wants Dick's help to take down Black Mask.”

“Will you shut up, already?” Jason snaps. “If Batman wanted to take down Black Mask, he would’a fuckin’ done it already. Our lives are just a fuckin’ game to him. He doesn't give a shit about Gotham.”

“ _Language_ ,” Dick huffs. “And be nice to your brother. Bruce Wayne might be Batman. The butts match.” Jason rolls his eyes.

“Are you going to see him again?” Tim asks. Dick wants to say no. Bruce should be blacklisted for what he pulled tonight. That being said, it's not like he can tell Sionis _why_ Bruce knew something was going to happen ergo why it was intentionally endangering him. Plus, well, Bruce is a really good client. He has a lot of money he doesn't care about and despite his strange personality, he listens. If he does come back, Dick isn't sure he's in any position to turn him away.

This could still be his chance to get his brothers out of Crime Alley.

“That's not really up to me,” Dick says. He sighs, rubbing his forehead in his fingers. “I'm going to go lay down, okay? I have a headache. And a backache.” And an everything else ache. His brothers frown at him. “I'm fine. It's just been a long night.”

“Whatever you say,” Jason mumbles.

“Okay,” Tim says softly.


	2. Restaurants

It's not long between the gala and Dick seeing Bruce again, only a couple days he was surely using to track down Harley and do his Batman detective work. Bruce's timing is awfully good to always show up while Dick doesn't have any other clients. He wonders how long Bruce has been waiting tonight.

“Good evening, Dick,” he greets, almost if the gala hadn't happened at all. Dick arches a brow at him.

“Hey,” he returns curtly and it's not entirely because his voice is a little rough right now. It's been a decent night and he's seen a few new clients. He always does after the tabloids print something about him. ‘Wayne's mysterious date saves room full of people’. How many strings did Bruce pull to get them to print that story? Or rather, how much money did he have to throw.

“I would like to apologise,” Bruce says.

“Like to?” Dick repeats. A pause as Bruce reconsider his wording.

“I'm sorry, Dick,” he says. “I shouldn't have mislead you the way I did. It wasn't my intention to lead you into danger.” Yeah, he shouldn't have. Dick looks at him expectantly and Bruce seems perplexed. “I’m- sorry for not trusting you to take care of yourself?” Close enough. Dick doesn't really see getting anything better out of him than that. Still, it's a lot more than he usually gets out of people like Bruce. He sighs softly.

What a low bar.

“It's okay, Bruce,” Dick assures. He does get it, he guesses. Batman’s been alone so long, it only goes to show he doesn't know how to treat someone like Dick. Though Dick is beginning to wonder what that even means now; what even _is_ he to Bruce. Not a friend or an ally, just some guy that knows his biggest secret.

“I'd like to buy your time for tonight, if you don't mind,” Bruce explains. It _has_ been a good night and, in theory, Dick stands to make a lot more money with individual clients than taking Bruce up on another ‘base’ package night. That being said, no matter how much money he makes, Mask is going to leave him with very little. He's already tired and sore. The last guy did a number on his throat.

“A last minute gala?” Dick asks.

“No,” Bruce says. “Just you and me.” This is definitely starting to get out of hand here. It's clear Bruce really doesn't understand this is just a job for Dick. He likes Bruce, he really does, but at the end of the day he is just another means to an end.

“Sure,” Dick agrees. “I don't mind. What's the plan? Another riveting game of chess?” That gets a quiet chuckle out Bruce. Dick smiles a little.

“If you'd like, we can do that,” he assures. “I was thinking something to eat. I didn't get the opportunity to take you somewhere after the gala.” Whose fault was that, Dick wonders. He is hungry, though. As much as he's been able to at least buy a few more groceries than usual, their home is still lacking anything substantial. He has to be extremely careful spending the money Bruce gave him, even on things like food.

“I'm not exactly dressed for a night out right now,” Dick murmurs. He has some spare clothes back at his room but those aren't exactly for a last minute rendezvous with a billionaire. Bruce might know about his brothers, and even know where he lives, but that doesn't mean Dick wants to bring him anywhere near them.

“I can buy you some clothes,” Bruce offers. Dick arches a brow at him. “Is that strange?”

“A little,” he admits but he laughs. “Is this your kink, then? Buying things for people?”

“No,” Bruce says blandly. “It's not.” Dick follows him back to his car.

“Not sadism, not buying things,” he muses as Bruce opens the door for him. They both climb in. “Is it puppy play but with bats? Batplay?”

“Puppy-? I don't follow,” Bruce admits.

“I'll mark that down as a ‘maybe’,” Dick says. Bruce gives him a curiously but amused look. Looks like he gets ‘soft hearted billionaire’ today- or at least for right now. Dick doesn't ask where they're going, either to eat or dress, and Bruce doesn't tell. Probably more out of not thinking about it than anything else.

“How is your side?” Bruce asks. Dick touches his ribs instinctively and tries not to wince. It wouldn't hurt near as bad if it didn't cover so much area. Getting down and up all night hasn't helped, either.

“Better than you'd think,” he promises. “Not the worst I've ever been bruised.” By the face Bruce makes, that wasn't the ideal answer. Dick just shrugs a touch. He gets hurt sometimes, that's how the job goes. “Any luck with your case?”

“No,” Bruce says. It's short and curt and to the point but after a moment, Bruce seems to realise his answer might have been more off putting than he meant. He's not good at conversation, Dick has already figured that out. Sure, he can bluff his way through one but just barely at that. That's where his ‘dumb’ routine comes in handy. “Not yet, I mean. I'm still working on it.”

Just the _worst_ at conversation.

“No details, I get it,” Dick assures with a little hand raise. “I just wish you luck.”

“Thanks,” Bruce murmurs. Dick knows Bruce is going to ask for his help again. Saving ‘the Batman’ has, unintentionally, put Dick right into the middle of this mess and working for Black Mask has only concrete his significance. Quinn may be hard to read but there's rationality in her decisions; she wouldn't have attacked him just for working for Mask without a good reason. But whatever, Dick can wait until Bruce figures that out for himself.

The car stops and they get out again. When Bruce mentioned getting him clothes, Dick didn't actually think that meant bringing him to a fucking tailor. Why is this place even open this late at night- no, actually, Dick's just going to make the assumption Bruce called ahead and flung some money in someone's direction. He gives Bruce a pointed look.

“Some jeans and a t-shirt from the local shop would have been fine,” he assures. He really just wanted to get out of something less tight fitting and revealing. This seems a little overboard.

“If you're going to be accompanying me to galas in the future, it would be good to have some variety in your wardrobe,” Bruce says. Dick arches a brow at him as they head inside.

“You seem pretty confident I'll be accompanying you to more galas,” he replies. “Especially when the last one was such a _great_ time.” The confidence of rich white men never ceases to amaze him.

“I thought you had fun,” Bruce murmurs. Dick raises his shirt to show the gnarly bruises on his side. “Was that not the fun part?”

“Let me guess? Psych profile says I'm a thrill junkie?” Dick asks. “I handled myself in a situation that required immediate response so now obviously I'm just dying to throw myself to danger.”

“Most galas aren't going to be like that,” Bruce promises. “And if they are, and I'm aware of it, I will let you know.” Well that's just a damn lie, now isn't it? Why would Bruce ever give _him_ that kind of courtesy? Dick gives him a look of disbelief. The conversation, fortunately, ends when the tailor approaches them. Before Bruce can say anything, the man addresses him.

“Mr. Grayson, welcome back,” he greets. “Mr. Wayne?” He seems a little confused seeing him here with Bruce, though. Dick has had a lot of high profile clients but Bruce has got to be one of the highest.

“New boyfriend,” Dick explains. “He knows I'm a gold digger, don't worry.” The tailor flushes in embarrassment and Bruce gives Dick a questioning look.

“Of course. What can I do for you today?” the tailor asks.

“Whatever Mr. Wayne here wants to dress me up in. As usual,” Dick assures. Bruce blinks like he wasn't expecting to be called on in this decision. He really is new at this. Dick gives him a pat on the shoulder. “He's a little indecisive. How about something simple? Black slacks, blue dress shirt, please.”

“Certainly,” the tailor says and scutters away. Dick motions for Bruce to follow him into the changing room.

“You two seem familiar,” Bruce notes.

“He's one of the best tailors in the city,” Dick says. “And I have lots of clients that want me to look nice. He's dressed me more than once.” And in doing do, has seen him with several different clients- enough to have definitely brought up his ‘concerns’ about Dick with more than one of them. Surely by now he would have pieced together that Dick is a sex worker not a gold digger trophy boyfriend. Well, now a days he minds his own.

“I see,” Bruce replies thoughtfully. Dick starts undressing and Bruce politely looks somewhere else.

“We'll mark dollplay off the list for now, too,” Dick assures, shimmying out of his tight jeans. “Suit kink is on the table, though.”

“I'm not sure I want to know what some of these things are,” Bruce says. Dick touches his arm and Bruce looks back at him. With his attention drawn, Dick cozies up to his side and presses his mostly naked body against him.

“Is it that you like to play house? I can be the son and you can be _daddy_?” he suggests in a lewd voice. Bruce stares at him, unphased.

“No,” he says. Dick laughs as he backs off again. Bruce doesn't turn away this time, though, but he's otherwise unaffected by Dick standing around only in a skimpy pair of panties. He's honestly probably not even looking. Bruce is an odd man.

“Hm, I really thought I was onto something there,” Dick says.

“You seem obsessed with trying to find out what I ‘like’,” Bruce comments.

“You can tell a lot about a person by what they like,” Dick says. “Knowing what gets you off is my job.”

“I'm not hiring you for sex,” Bruce reminds him.

“I'm a _sex_ worker?” Dick reminds him back. “If you're looking for someone to pretend to be your friend, there's a lot of better options. Non full service escorts are a lot cheaper, too.” The tailor passes some clothes over the door, already measured to his size, and he starts redressing again.

“I enjoy _your_ company,” Bruce says firmly. Dick gives him a look of disbelief as he pulls the nice new shirt on.

“Bruce,” he answers will a roll of the eye. “No, you don't. You just want to _save_ me. Lure me away from my sinful life by showing me the greener side or whatever. I appreciate the effort, I really do, but we've been over this; I can't leave Black Mask’s employment.” With minimum warning, Bruce grabs his forearms and Dick nearly winces away from him. It's not rough or forceful, though, just commanding his attention. He's a big man, he could be violent if he wanted to be, but he's not.

“I enjoy your company,” he repeats. Dick stares at him briefly before he's pulling his arm free to keep dressing.

“I'm not your friend,” he murmurs mildly. “I'm a commodity. The sooner you get that in your head, the better.” Nothing uncrosses signals like making it perfectly clear he works for money. Bruce's silence doesn't speak as much as the clench in his jaw does. Dick finishes buttoning his shirt up and pats the front out.

“Well? How's this?” he asks.

“Fine,” Bruce says stiffly. Dick has to wonder if it's being told their not friends that makes him angry or the reminder that people, including Dick himself, just see him as an object to be bought and sold. It's easier that way. Dick turns back to the mirror to fix himself a bit more. It does look nice. He feels a little more comfortable now especially after the night he's had.

When he leaves the changing room, Bruce follows. He doesn't hover but instead, speaks to the tailor while Dick finds a decent pair of shoes to go with his clothes. By the time he does and gets them on, Bruce is holding a bag. Dick would assume it's his old clothes but it's a big bag and Dick gives him a less than amused look. It's not that he minds the gifts or the extra clothes but, unsurprisingly, it feels like Bruce is doing it out of spite above all else.

Like if he showers Dick with enough gifts and compliments, things will change.

Dick decides not to comment on it.

“Alright, now I'm dinner presentable,” he assures with a grin. The less people that mistake him for a sex worker, the better. “Where to, lover boy?”

“Any preference?” Bruce asks and as he leaves, Dick follows. It’s not the first, and it definitely won’t be the last, time a client left decisions up to him. Sometimes it’s a test, other times it’s a low key way of assessing what kind of person he is, and in more malevolent ways, it’s trying to find out places he’s known to occupy or hang out around. With Bruce, Dick couldn’t say for sure but he knows for sure it isn’t thoughtless.

“Anywhere you want,” Dick replies. “You’re paying.” He’s not giving Bruce anything that easily. Bruce doesn’t say anything, simply opens the car door for Dick and they’re on their way again. This ride is a little quieter.

If Dick can say anything, it’s that Bruce’s dedication to this is surprising. Even through scoldings and less than friendly arguments, he’s here again, still trying to work Dick over. Most people have either given up or become so upset, Dick has to resort to physically making them back off. Bruce may be frustrated, but he keeps a level head very well. He _is_ Batman, after all.

“I’d like to hire your services again in a few weeks,” Bruce says out of the blue. A few weeks is a long way away considering how fast things have happened so far. Dick isn’t sure Bruce is going to make it _that_ far. He arches a questioning brow. “This will be- a little more lengthy.”

“A week long gala event?” Dick jokes.

“A short cruise, actually,” Bruce replies. Oh. That’s a little different. Trapped on a boat with a bunch of rich people; Dick isn’t sure how he feels about that. Clients have taken him on trips before, short ones always, but Bruce isn’t exactly like his other clients.

“And what’s the goal of this one?” Dick asks. “Weed out more criminals?”

“No, that’s not the plan,” Bruce says and it almost sounds amused like he expects that to happen anyways. Dick is less than amused, however. “I promise, this time it is just a business trip. Two days and a night. It’s to show off some Wayne tech to potential investors.”

“You see how lying to me before makes me skeptical of you telling the truth this time, right?” Dick points out. The look Bruce gives him is somewhere between apologetic and resign.

“I don't expect you to trust me,” he says. Good, Dick doesn't. “But I would still enjoy your company.” Dick gives him a skeptical look. Not trust him, just go somewhere with him where he'll be trapped, sure. Hey, at least Dick knows how to swim.

It's the same dilemma as before; he doesn't trust Bruce but the prospect of getting paid for spending the night with him is far more tempting that working the street. Mask has been pleased with him so far in the work he's been doing with Bruce though when he realises Dick isn't finding any openings, that may change in an instant. Doing this ‘easy’ work for Bruce has been- _easy_. Dick suddenly feels uncomfortable in his new clothes.

“Are you sure bringing me to your little tech show is smart? If your ‘investors’ find out what I am, I don't see things going well,” Dick reminds him.

“I have PR people to deal with that,” Bruce promises. Yeah, whoever bought off every tabloid in the fucking city to not print Dick being a sex worker. “If it comes to light that my new boyfriend is a sex worker, we'll deal with it then.”

‘New boyfriend’.

“You know I'm not actually your boyfriend, right?” Dick says. “I said that to save us _both_ some face with a nosey tailor.”

“I know, Dick,” Bruce promises. “You're just here for the money.” That's what Dick has been trying to drive home but hearing it like this makes his stomach twist. It usually doesn't, he's used to clients throwing that in his face in a fit of anger or just to try to humiliate him, and he thought he had grown used to it. It's true, after all, it's just about supporting himself and his brothers; whatever it takes. Hearing it from Bruce, though, from _the_ Batman-

Dick rubs his arm.

“I'll think about it,” he says. “I don't like leaving my brothers alone like that.”

“I understand,” Bruce assures. It might just be thirty six hours, if that, but it's where he _can't_ get back home in an emergency. “They're welcome at the manor any time.”

“Duly noted,” Dick replies mildly. Absolutely not, his brothers aren't going anywhere near Batman and his weird house. Nice try. The car stops and Dick peers out a little, then up. A fancy restaurant, obviously, and one with a view no less. He's been here before, the food's mostly decent, but it's more about flaunting money than anything else. Something Bruce is proving he's very good at.

Bruce once again helps him out of the car and then offers his arm to escort him inside. Jeans and t-shirt probably wouldn't have been the best choice for this place, sure. Needless to say, Bruce gets them a nice table by one of the good windows. Dick gets distracted looking out of it almost immediately. He's in the nice parts of town a lot with his expensive clients but seeing ‘nice’ parts of Gotham like this from a distance always get him.

Clients have offered to let Dick move in with them before, with his brothers even. Seeing Gotham like this, the idea is always tempting. Even if all they want is to own him, sometimes he wonders if it's worth it.

“From up high, Gotham doesn't seem that bad, does it?” Bruce murmurs.

“The worst part of Gotham is its elite,” Dick comments off handedly. Bruce laughs- something that sounds honest enough to make Dick blink. He decides to change subject anyway. “I like the height, though. Being a circus kid and all.”

“You're not afraid?” Bruce asks. _That's how your parents died_ , he doesn't say.

“No,” Dick answers simply. “ _L'appel du vide_.”

“Call of the void,” Bruce says. “You miss it.” Dick doesn't say anything. The waiter offers them a choice of wine. “Red or white?”

“Red, please,” Dick replies and Bruce picks something red for them. He's not actually much of a drinker, he doubts Bruce is either, but he knows enough to get through. Dick offers him a smile when they're alone again. “So what's the real reason you keep coming back?”

“Honestly, Dick, I-” Bruce begins.

“ _Like my company_ , I know,” Dick finishes with a little roll of the eyes. “Usually when people say they like my company, they mean in the bedroom. Are you really so lonely you've stuped to paying a sex worker to keep you company?”

“I'm not lonely,” Bruce says again, almost amused sounding. He leans onto the table and Dick mimics him. “Is there really something wrong with me just liking you?”

“You didn't say you like _me_ ,” Dick points out. “You like my _company_.”

“Perhaps I'd like to get to know _you_ better, then,” Bruce says.

“To what end? Free dates?” Dick teases.

“I'm not trying to get out of paying you,” Bruce reminds him. Dick laughs. “And if I do want to help you get away from Black Mask-”

“You better be extremely careful,” he warns. The more he pushes, the more Dick wants to believe him. Bruce cracks another smile and they both are quiet for a while, just staring at each other from across the small table. Dick breaks off first when the waiter returns with their wine and takes their order. He orders the same thing he usually gets when he's brought here, one of the more filling items on the menu, and goes back to looking out the window.

“The circus, then,” Bruce says.

“You know the deal,” Dick replies. “You can ask me questions if I can ask you.”

“Of course,” Bruce agrees. Hopefully this time he won't hyper focus on Dick's job. “The Flying Graysons with Haley’s Circus, right?”

“Mmhm,” Dick answers.

“Do you mind me asking where you're from?” Bruce asks.

“I don't,” Dick replies. A pause.

“Where are you from?” Bruce asks.

“My mother was from Romania, my father was from the US, and I was born in a circus on the road with no doctors, no birth certificate, and no home,” Dick explains. “So, somewhere from Europe, technically. I've always considered my birthplace Romania and my home Gotham.”

“Hm,” Bruce murmurs.

“When my parents died and I was taken away, they forged me paperwork. Guess the orphanage didn't want to deal with the extra work of not having any,” Dick goes on, leaning on the table and sipping his wine.

“But you were never adopted,” Bruce says; a statement. Dick shakes his head.

“ _Technically_ , I'm ‘illegal’,” he says. “Everywhere.”

“Which makes finding a job hard,” Bruce says like he finally understands Dick's problem. It's not just that sex work doesn't require him to have citizenship proof, though; Black Mask, for all his major shortcomings, makes sure Dick is taken care of. Without him, all those times he's been arrested working could have ended up far, far worse. Dick can't just take any job Bruce offers.

“My turn,” he says. “What would you have me do if I _did_ come to work for you?”

“What do you want to do?” Bruce asks in return. “I own or have influence in many different types of business.”

“Fascinating,” Dick replies, unable to help sounding a little sarcastic. Bruce laughs quietly.

“We can find you a fitting job easily,” he assures. “And help you get any certifications that you need for it.”

“What if I want to be yours?” Dick asks.

“I'm sorry?” Bruce replies in bemusement.

“What if I don't want to give up sex work,” Dick says. “What if I want to be a little trophy ‘husband’ to be shown off during the day and fucked at night?” Bruce flusters in that _reserved_ , ‘don't let them know you have feelings’ kind of way Dick really gets a kick out of. He grins in amusement as Bruce recompenses himself.

“Is that sex work?” he asks. “It sounds like you just want a stable relationship.” Dick doesn't answer directly, just smiles at Bruce who smiles back. He's not serious, of course, but rather wanted to know how Bruce would respond. As much as he thinks his work could be a lot more palatable under the right circumstances, he'd just as well do something else given the opportunity.

The waiter brings their food and refills their drinks.

They pause their question game to eat. At least for a little while. Dick looks back out the window as a sudden, bright light appears out the corner of his eye. That's definitely an explosion. He takes another bite as Bruce suddenly gets to his feet. Without a word, he takes his credit card from his shirt pocket, places it on the table, and leaves. Dick resumes eating.

Sure enough, a few moments later he sees a ‘mysterious’ figure briefly, extremely briefly, off in the distance. He probably wouldn't have seen it if he weren't looking for it. Dick finishes his meal and his wine and the waiter takes Bruce's card and boxes up his food. They don't seem too concerned with his sudden disappearance or the obvious fact he's not coming back. When he's done, Dick pockets Bruce's card, takes his food, and leaves without an issue.

JT < where are you tonight  
TD < Croc sighting in Crime Alley. Looks like he's engaging with False Facers.  
DG > Thanks for the heads up.  
JT < you should get off the street it looks rough  
DG > Will do.

Dick sets the boxed food in the backseat of the car and peers around to see if Bruce is anywhere near. It's been quiet for a few minutes so perhaps he's finished up already. If Killer Croc and the False Facers were already going at it when he arrived, it might not have taken much to finish them off. At least, that's what Dick was kind of hoping before he sees Batman being flung through the streets.

Batman appears briefly when he lands smack in the middle of the road before he bounces back to his feet and launches back into the alley out of sight. Dick hears the loud snarling and series of thumping and crashing afterward. He sighs. He should probably go check on Batman. He didn't save him once just to stand by and watch him get even more injured.

Dick rolls his sleeves up as he heads for the alley. Croc is just as big as he remembers but he doesn't see any of Mask’s men. Bruce is heavily engaged and, honestly, dealing with it pretty well. Not that Dick expected anything less from Batman. Still, Dick needs to be paid at some point tonight. He doesn't take ‘iou’s and that means he needs Bruce back, not Batman. This could take all night.

So Dick takes things into his own hands. Croc is focused on Bruce, Bruce is focused on Croc, and Dick picks up a pipe from the alley floor. He approaches just as Croc has Bruce pinned against the ground with a powerful claw.

“Hey KC!” Dick yells and Croc whips on him in an instant. The second he does, Dick swings full force at his face, right for the eye. “Don't you know bats are riddled with rabies?” Croc releases Bruce to angrily clutch his head and Bruce bolts directly back into action, jumping on his back. Dick rolls out of the way as Croc wildly swings to get Bruce off of him. He snarls angrily and Dick slams his pipe into his back hard. The distraction gives Bruce a chance to get to his head without resistance.

Croc roars and curses as he flails around trying to get Bruce off. He slams himself into a wall, catching Bruce in it, and Dick quickly moves in to help subdue him. Another rough crack to the stomach makes him lose his balance and Bruce grabs his neck in an arm to bring him to the ground with a heavy _thud_. For a moment, Croc attempts to get back up but Bruce keeps him in the submission hold until he calms down.

Dick moves in before anything else can happen, dropping his pipe and quickly crouching down to put both hands on Croc’s head. Bruce doesn't say or do anything.

“Easy Waylon,” he says quietly. “I'm with the False Facers, you know me.” Waylon looks up minutely before lowering his head again. Dick carefully pushes Bruce's arm off and Waylon sits up a little. Bruce remains poised for another fight but Waylon looks way too tired for that- and confused.

“What are you doing, Waylon?” Dick asks gingerly. “You were out on good behavior. They're taking you right back after this, you know that, right?” Waylon huffs but doesn't say anything. “Waylon-”

“I don't remember,” he finally gruffs out.

“You don't remember?” Dick repeats.

“Head foggy,” Waylon admits. “Don't remember.”

“Poison Ivy,” Bruce says.

“Did Poison Ivy do this to you?” Dick asks. Waylon looks at him mildly, looks away, then huffs again.

“Talked to me,” he says. “Maybe. Don't remember what we talked about. Don't remember anything after that, actually.” Dick gives Bruce a look. This marks the second time in so many weeks that Ivy’s been up to something. This isn't usually her MO. And that's only if her and Harley aren't working together- which they probably are. There's definitely something going on. Dick looks back to Waylon and puts his hands on his shoulders.

“They're going to take you away, okay?” he says. “I'm going to call Roy and we'll make sure we get proof you didn't have control of yourself.” Waylon frowns. “I know. I'm sorry. Just consider it protective custody for now. Poison Ivy might try to get to you again.”

Dick backs off and he grabs Bruce to pull him away slowly. Waylon sits up more and exhaustively looks at his hands and arms before collapsing back against a wall to catch his breath. When Bruce is sure he's not going anywhere, he finally ducks into Dick to speak quietly.

“Take the car back to the manor,” he instructs curtly.

“Be nice to Waylon,” Dick replies just as short. “You've ‘helped’ him enough.” Bruce doesn't say anything and irritably, Dick makes his way back to the car.

X

Dick lets himself into the manor and when he does, Bruce is already waiting for him- out of costume, fortunately.

“Start yelling at me and this whole ‘relationship’ is over, Bruce,” Dick warns. Bruce's jaw firms.

“You shouldn't have involved yourself,” he says stiffly.

“That's not your choice,” Dick answers. “You don't _control_ me. That fight could have gone on all night and honestly? Who knows what you would have done to Waylon.” Bruce is silent for a long time, just staring as he thinks and debates. Shockingly, he sighs and seems to relax some.

“You know Waylon Jones?” he asks. Dick scoffs.

“He's my friend’s AA sponsor,” he explains. Bruce doesn't really respond, just looks somewhere else for a moment. “He can't stay in Arkham, Bruce. It's not good for him.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Bruce says. Dick doesn't believe that for a second. “I understand he wasn't in control tonight. Thank you for stepping in. You were able to handle the situation much better than I would have been.”

Maybe if he'd stop deciding every issue needs to be punched unconscious.

“It's- you're welcome, Bruce,” Dick murmurs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately, looks like my new clothes didn't last long.”

“There's more,” Bruce assures with a laugh.

“Of course there is,” Dick says in equal amusement. Bruce smiles at him and, with a little huff, Dick smiles back. Sure, some of the things Batman does sometimes are questionable but this is- Dick is honestly shocked that he seems willing to change. Not just _change_ , but really try to understand where Dick is coming from. Dick really does believe in Batman; he's glad not to be proven a fool for that.

“Father, may I have a word?”

Holy shit, what the fuck?

Dick stares at the child that seemingly comes out of fucking no where. He's too stunned to do anything but stare and the kid stares right back. Bruce has a son? _Bruce Wayne_? Since when? Bruce sighs deeply and with a hand, silently beckons the boy to his side. He sets his hand on his shoulder and the look Dick gets from the kid is so _sour_. He looks _just_ like his dad.

“Dick,” Bruce says. “This is my son, Damian. Damian, this is Dick Grayson.”

“Charmed,” Damian replies dryly. “A word?”

“If it's about tonight, you can say it in front of Dick,” Bruce assures. _Bruce has a kid_? “ _Politely_ , Damian.”

“You engaged without me,” Damian says irritably. “Again.” What the hell is going on?

“I didn't go out expecting this,” Bruce replies. “I was on a date.”

“You have a kid?” Dick asks dumbly. Damian glares at him but it's ineffective. Why does Bruce have a son? Not that Dick is surprised, he is a playboy, but holy shit.

“For the time being, we're keeping that secret,” Bruce explains. “Until he proves-”

“ _You're keeping your son secret_?” Dick repeats in annoyment. They both look taken aback for some reason. “ _Bruce Wayne_.”

“Damian is a unique circumstance-” Bruce begins.

“He's like eight,” Dick says, gesturing at him.

“Ten,” Damian corrects blandly.

“You can't _hide_ your _son_ , _Bruce_ ,” Dick snaps. “ _Jesus_ _christ_. He's a little boy, what possibly do you think he needs to ‘prove’ to be your son?”

“That he can be trusted,” Bruce says sternly. “Dick, you don't understand. Damian isn't-”

“ _You don't understand_ ,” Dick bites back. “You can't treat a child like this.”

“He's an _assassin_ ,” Bruce says. Dick looks at Damian and Damian huffs quietly, squaring out his tiny shoulders and trying to look proud despite the fact that he's so obviously uncomfortable. “He was trained by his mother from birth. Are you familiar with the al Ghuls?”

“He's a _child_ ,” Dick repeats. “Just because his mother _abused_ him doesn't mean _you_ get to.” An honestly startled expression crosses Damian’s face before he can reel it back and even then, he seems confused. He just looks at Dick, quiet and alarmed. Bruce doesn't say anything for a long time, either, once again proving he's never been scolded in his life.

“Bruce,” Dick says. “You can't ask a _child_ to prove he _deserves_ your love and attention. That's not right- I don't care the circumstances. Do you understand me?” More silence, from both of them. Bruce looks down at Damian and Damian looks back, clearly withholding some kind of flinch. He looks back at Dick.

“I do,” he says. “But the situation-” Dick holds a hand up to stop him.

“No,” he says with a bitter little laugh. “Enough, Bruce. It was nice to meet you, Damian.” He takes one of his cards from his pocket and hands it to Damian who reels back initially. When he finally takes it, it's like giving a wounded animal food. “This is my number. It's not much, but you're always welcome at my home. Just let me know and _I'll_ tell your dad.”

“Dick-” Bruce says. Dick gives him a nasty look.

“I'll even come get you myself if I have to,” he assures, defiantly looking Bruce square in the eye. He huffs mildly to himself before holding his hand out to Bruce. “Pay me. I'm going home.”

Bruce does, without argument, and Dick knows he doesn't have to count it to make sure it's enough. He just pockets it and both Bruce and Damian stare at him with wildly different emotions. Dick shakes his head.

“Goodnight Damian,” he says as he leaves, forgoing giving Bruce a goodbye.

The car takes him back to his corner.

X

Dick sticks another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

“No- I _know_ , Roy,” he mumbles passively around his spoon. “What did you want me to do? _Batman_ had him. Even if I _could_ get him away from Batman, he's like a seven foot tall crocodile man, where would you expect me to hide him?”

“Will you shut up? God, you're such an annoyin’ little shit,” Jason says loudly from somewhere else.

“Hold- Hold on, Roy,” Dick murmurs, lowering his phone halfly into his shoulder. “Jason be nice to your brother! And watch the language! No- Roy- There was nothing I could _do_ , Roy.” He shoves more ice cream in him.

“You're just mad I was right,” Tim assures and Dick glances over minutely as they both come out from the bedroom. “Again.”

“ _Whatever_ ,” Jason sneers. “So Wayne has a kid? What of it?”

“ _Crocodile man_ , Roy,” Dick reminds him irritably.

“And you said _ward_ ,” Jason points out, swiping the tub of ice cream from under Dick's nose and the spoon out of his hand. “The paper says ‘son’.”

“You're just splitting hairs now,” Tim says. He places a paper down in front of Dick. “I said there was a kid there. I _knew_ it.”

‘Damian Wayne, son of Bruce Wayne, revealed at press conference’.

Dick stares at the paper for a few seconds.

“And so what if you were? Just proves you're a little creep as always,” Jason scoffs, taking a bite from the ice cream tub. He offers Tim a spoonful who gladly arches up on his tiptoes toes to accept it. “You shouldn't be knowin’ shit like this. You're gonna get your ass in trouble one day.”

“No, Roy- _Roy_ , don't you come down here,” Dick warns, smacking a hand on the table. “You're just going to make matters worse! I have a client working on the situation.”

“Curiosity killed the cat and satisfaction brought it back,” Tim hums.

“You didn't seem to mind so much when I was sucking cock to get your fucking bail posted, _Roy Harper_ ,” Dick bites.

“Watch your fuckin’ language,” Jason says, gesturing pointedly at Tim.

“One day I'm going to learn the fuck word and you'll all be sorry,” Tim says, taking the spoon from Jason for another bite.

“Roy, Black Mask will not only kill you, it'll hurt the entire time you're dying. _Stay in Star City_ ,” Dick snaps. “I have to go. I got robbed of my ice cream.” Without letting Roy say anything else stupid, Dick hangs up. He scoffs a noise as he puts his phone down before picking up the paper instead. He skims it while his two brothers finish off the ice cream.

“I guess ten years ago Wayne forgot to wrap it and knocked someone up,” Jason comments. “Ain't that surprisin’.”

“I don't buy it,” Tim says. “There's no way this kid was an ‘accident’.” Dick runs his hand over his mouth as he thinks. This is- unexpected, honestly. Bruce keeps surprising him. Why? Why listen to anything Dick tells him?

“No way Wayne planned a kid,” Jason scoffs.

“ _Wayne_ wouldn't have, no,” Tim agrees. “Damian’s mother, though-” he trails off.

“Oh great,” Jason says and he rolls his eyes. “Let's hear it. Who is she?”

“ _Talia al Ghul_ ,” Tim says. Dick nods thoughtlessly as he stares back down at the paper.

“ _Who_?” Jason snips back. Tim rolls his eyes this time.

“Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter?” he clarifies. Jason gives him a weird look. “He's like a super freak. Gets into it with Batman sometimes. His enemy’s daughter having his kid? She probably did it just to manipulate him.”

“ _Wayne_ _isn't Batman, Tim_ ,” Jason reminds him irritably.

“Enough,” Dick says, waving a hand at them. “As much as I want to ask you to stay out of my client’s business, I know you're not going to do that so just do it quieter, okay? Bruce isn't someone we want to fuck around with and make mad. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tim agrees quietly.

“Jason?” Dick urges.

“I haven't done anythin’,” Jason grumbles back. Dick arches a brow at him. “‘ight, I got it. Jeez. What's actually for dinner or do we get to eat today?”

“There's dinners in the freezer,” Dick murmurs. Tim and Jason both make faces. “Bruce wants me to go on a cruise with him. Just two days and a night, probably around Gotham. Think you guys can stay out of trouble for one night?” Jason makes a mocking face as he pulls a few frozen dinners out to start ‘sprucing’ up.

“WayneTec is rolling out their new waterproofing patent,” Tim says, plopping down at the table opposite Dick. “They probably put it on anything they could to show it off. Including the boat, I'm sure.” Jason makes a talking hand gesture in boredom from the kitchen counter.

“We'll be fine,” he promises fleetingly. “Is Roy coming?”

“I don't know,” Dick sighs. “I hope not. I love him but he's such a moron sometimes.”

“Are you gonna be okay?” Tim asks. “Bein’ alone with Bruce so soon like that? He's not even having sex with you? Should we be worried?”

“No,” Dick assures tiredly and he pushes his hands over his face then through his hair. “No. Bruce is- odd, but he’s nothing to worry about right now. He just wants to help.”

“Yeah? How’s he gonna do that? Buy you out from under Mask?” Jason says with a snort of a laugh. “We can all go live in the manor with his other unwanted son and be one big happy family. Maybe he’ll even adopt us.”

“Jason,” Tim says quietly.

“What? You think Wayne couldn’t help if he really wanted to? All that money and all those resources he has? He doesn’t want to help, he just wants another charity case to make him look good,” Jason snaps.

“ _Jason_ ,” Tim bites a little rougher. Jason turns to give him a glare but stops when he realises Dick is on the verge of tears. He just nods, staring vacantly out into space. Jason’s probably more right than he thinks. Bruce helping them is just ‘preemptive medicine’. They’re just going to be another case to solve, another enemy to fight, another problem to ‘deal with’ if he doesn’t deal with them now. Just another charity case.

“Dick,” Jason murmurs. “I-”

“I’m sorry,” Dick says. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I can’t do more. I’m sorry.”

X

Dick follows Alfred into the manor, looking around quietly as they go. Even now, he’s still in awe of how big this place really is. He’s pretty sure the structure itself is bigger than the entire apartment building Dick lives in and that’s not even accounting for the land it’s on.

These paintings are worth more than some of Dick’s clients.

“Dick?” Bruce says curiously as he comes down to meet him. Dick gives him a sheepish smile.

“I usually don’t, uh, come to clients unless they ask,” he admits. “I hope you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Bruce assures. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Dick promises. “I just came to apologise. I shouldn't have snapped at you like I did. You were right, I didn't know the situation and it wasn't my business, anyways. I'm sorry, Bruce.” Bruce laughs quietly.

“You don't have to apologise for that,” he says, placing a hand on Dick's shoulder and ushering him to another part of the manor. “ _You_ were right. I wasn't treating Damian fairly. Admittedly, he was sprung on me without warning. I wasn't, I'm _not_ , ready for a kid but I don't have a choice and I really don't know what I'm doing- especially with one as independent as Damian. I was treating him more like an adversary than a child.”

“When did he start living with you?” Dick asks curiously. Bruce brings him to the library, awing in its own way, and has a seat in a little window nook. He seems to have been here when Dick arrived, books lying open and papers strewn across a nearby table. Dick sits with him, comfortably close, and Bruce brings an arm around his shoulder.

“A couple months ago,” he replies. No wonder their relationship is so strained. “I didn't even know he existed until then. He didn't ask for this anymore than I did and I'm the adult here; I shouldn't be taking it out on him. You and your brothers being brought up the way you were, I understand why you were so upset.”

“Yeah,” Dick says softly. “I'm- not saying it's _acceptable_ , but I understand why you might be a little weary of him, too. But he's just a kid, Bruce.” Tim was that old when his parents died. Dick was _younger_ when he was abandoned.

“I know. Thanks to you, I think we're finally making some steps forward,” Bruce assures. “Thank you.” Dick smiles. They're already so close, when Dick turns into him a little more, he's right in Bruce's face. It's a loaded few seconds before Bruce takes the initiative and leans in to kiss him, shallow at first then again and again. Dick reaches to touch his strong jaw and the light kisses grow a bit hotter.

“Dick,” Bruce says between lips. Dick hums back a noise of acknowledgement as he coasts his other hand over Bruce's collar and down his back to grip his shirt for leverage. “I'll pay.”

“What do you want?” Dick asks in a sultry tone. “Tell me.”

“For the kiss,” Bruce murmurs. Dick laughs against his mouth.

“That's it?” he asks. “Come on, Bruce, tell me what you really want. You got me, okay? I'm _charmed_ , I'm snarred in your playboy personality, I'm _smitten_. Indulge a little.” Bruce doesn't answer right away and their kiss grows more intense by the second. His hand tightens in Dick's shoulder but he keeps his other one clear, like he's worried about trapping Dick.

“Just rutting,” he finally says. “Like last time.” He did seem to really enjoy that. Dick isn't sure if he really did just like it that much or if he's still holding back but for the time being, he lets him. He takes Bruce's other hand and brings it to his waist before climbing into his lap, never breaking their kiss. Sure enough, he's already very interested and his half hard cock is immediately noticeable when Dick straddles him.

Unlike last time, though, Bruce doesn't need as much guiding to touch and feel and _explore_. His large hands roam freely and Dick wraps his own arms around Bruce's neck to give him all the room he needs. Again, Dick is reminded exactly how fucking big Bruce is. He took down Waylon in a _headlock_. That's- Dick isn't generally _actually_ attracted to his clients, but that's kind of hot.

Dick breaks their kiss just to move on to kissing Bruce's neck. He draws his hands over his shoulders and runs his fingers under the collar of his shirt to expose more skin. Bruce’s hands trace his waist, his hips, dip down over his lower back and follow his ass to feel his thighs. Dick groans in his ear as he grinds down against Bruce's gradually filling cock.

“I'll go on that cruise with you,” he murmurs against Bruce's skin, breathless and wanting.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Bruce replies and it is pretty rewarding hearing him just the slightest out of breath, too. He moves on to mouth at Dick's neck. “We'll have to get you new clothes-” Another kiss. “Night wear-” Harder and longer and hot. “Anything.”

“Are you sure your kink isn't buying things for me?” Dick asks in amusement. “You're not making a good case for yourself here.”

“I want to make sure you have everything you need,” Bruce says. Dick strokes Bruce's jaw line with his thumb. They look at one another, close and hot and wanting- mostly out of breath. Bruce takes his hand and kisses his fingers. “It's the least I can do to repay you.”

“You've repaid me enough,” Dick assures. In cold hard cash nonetheless. He moves back to kiss Bruce again and Bruce holds him close. “Just this?” he repeats. “You don't want anything else?”

“Just this today,” Bruce agrees. “Just you.”

Oh, Bruce, why do you have to get so _attached_. Dick bites his lip as Bruce slides his hands into his back pockets and leisurely grinds Dick down into his lap.

“Am I interrupting something?”

They both stop to look over at Damian. Fortunately, they are still fully clothed and despite being a little red in the face, they're decent. Dick's going to have to remember there's a kid wandering around now and he's quiet as shit. He rests his head in the crook of Bruce's shoulder and Bruce sets a hand on his back before clearing his throat. Damian arches a brow.

“No,” Bruce says. “What do you need, Damian?”

“Besides being in the middle of something,” Damian says, a scathing jab at the research Bruce had obviously been in the middle of. “Alfred would like to know if your _whore_ plans on staying for dinner.”

“ _Damian_ ,” Bruce says at once.

“ _Language_ ,” Dick snips, lifting his head. Much like his father, Damian seems taken aback by being scolded so openly by Dick. This look quickly morphs into offense. “I'm a sex worker _or_ , if you _have_ to, escort is fine, too.”

“You're a whore,” Damian repeats defiantly.

“ _Damian Wayne_ ,” Bruce says more firmly, moving Dick out of his lap as he gets to his feet.

“And you're a little bastard child,” Dick replies. Damian physically recoils in surprise. He looks at Dick and then at Bruce like he expects something to get done about this. Bruce, likewise, looks a little out of his depth. “Doesn't feel very nice, does it, Damian? Just because someone does something you don't find ‘classy’ doesn't give you the right to be crude to them. Just because you're Bruce Wayne's kid doesn't mean people are going to be nice to you for being rude.”

Damian doesn't say anything, his face scrunched up in a nasty look. After a few silent seconds, Bruce sighs. He flattens out the front of his shirt with his hand.

“I'm sorry, Dick,” he says.

“You're not the one that should be apologising,” Dick assures, his eyes remaining fixed on Damian. Damian sticks his nose in the air with a quiet ‘hmp’ before leaving the room without another word. Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Is that how that's done?” he asks quietly. Dick shrugs.

“That's how I got Tim to stop calling other kids ‘peasants’,” he replies. Bruce huffs a little laugh.

“I should get back to work,” he says. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“No, thank you,” Dick assures. “I just stopped by to talk. I need to get back to my brothers before my shift.” Bruce looks him over a moment, obviously frowning at the idea of him going back to work. Clients getting possessive can be hit or miss; it all depends on if they actually want to pay. Dick isn't worried about Bruce not paying but he is worried about Bruce potentially trying to go after some of his ‘less nice’ clients.

“I’m sure Alfred will be glad to make some more, why don't you bring some food to your brothers?” Bruce offers. “Then you can come back here and I'll pay you for the night.”

“You're not busy?” Dick asks, picking up a piece of paper to look it over. Some chemical compound string; looks like something they found on Waylon. This doesn't look like something Ivy could ‘synthesis’. Bruce takes the paper from him.

“Would you argue to keeping me company while I finish my work?” Bruce asks.

“Now you want to pay me for sitting around and being quiet?” Dick says in amusement. “I can be a pretty little paper weight, sure. Objectification?”

“Is that another kink thing?” Bruce asks with a raised brow. Damian is _definitely_ his son. “You're smart, Dick. If you have help to offer, by all means. Having a fresh set of eyes never hurts.”

“Whatever you want, Bruce,” Dick assures. He does notice the slight, extremely miniscule downward twitch of Bruce's lips. “I'm sure my brothers would appreciate eating an actual meal for once.” Bruce starts gathering up his papers and his books.

“I'll have Alfred show you downstairs when you return,” he says. “Take your time.”

The more Dick gets to know Bruce, the less he's sure about his read on him.

Despite Alfred seeming a little annoyed at being offered up to cook a _second_ meal, he does seem glad to be making sure Dick’s brothers get fed, too. Like Bruce, he assures Dick that they're welcome over for a meal instead and like before, Dick acknowledges the offer without outright accepting or refusing it. As much as he'd love to be able to tell his brothers they can head over to Wayne Manor for a meal whenever they want, Dick doesn't like them near his clients.

Especially a client like Bruce.

Dick thanks Alfred profusely for the meal and takes it back home. Jason and Tim dig in like they're starving, which isn't all that far from the truth, and Dick takes the opportunity to shower and redress. He’s surprised to find a new hickey on his neck though he’s not sure if it was actually intentionally or if Bruce really doesn’t know his own strength that well.

Once he’s sure his brothers are set for the night, he heads back to the manor.

Honestly, he’s not that sure what to expect. He knows he’s not ‘assisting’ with WayneTec work, that’s for sure. Bruce is obviously trying to figure out what happened to Waylon, which is nice, but Dick isn’t sure how much he’s going to be able to help with that. He doesn’t know where Bruce got the idea that he’s smart but he’s been severely misled.

“Welcome back, Master Grayson,” Alfred greets him.

“Dick is still fine,” Dick assures him again and Alfred just gives him a little smirk.

“Master Bruce has instructed me to take you to his ‘office’,” he informs. “Please follow me.” Dick, having missed the quotations around office, isn’t fully expecting to be lead _underneath_ the manor. _This place is even bigger than he thought._ If Dick is awed by the upstairs, he’s absolutely _floored_ by the downstairs.

“What is all this?” Dick asks quietly.

“Batman’s ‘office’,” Alfred assures. Right, of course. Bruce has a giant cave under his house where he does all his Batman stuff. Sure. Why not. Tim is right about the weirdest things sometimes. Alfred gestures him down the stairs further into the cave and Dick gives him an unsure look before proceeding down on his own. He looks around as he descends further, looking at all the things and honestly just the fact that _it’s a fucking cave under the Wayne Manor._

“Welcome back,” Bruce says. Dick gives him a little smile before going back to looking around.

“This is so much,” he murmurs. “I can't believe you have a _lair_.”

“It's necessary to keep my identity secret,” Bruce assures. That sounds like a bold face lie. If anything, it just looks like Bruce likes to be dramatic- and has more money than even he knows what to do with. Bruce hands him a glass of water and Dick takes it with a quiet ‘thanks’.

“How far down are we?” he asks curiously, following Bruce back to his computer.

“Not as far as you'd think,” Bruce replies.

“This is incredible,” he says. “Weird, but incredible. You really can't tell this is here at all. I-” Dick stops, looking down at the glass he's been handed but has yet to drink from. He gives Bruce a mild look who looks back at him questioningly. Dick spits into the glass. “You could have just asked.”

“Sorry, force of habit,” Bruce offers as Dick hands him the glass back. Dick is highly unamused.

“I'm surprised you haven't gotten my dna yet,” he comments off handedly.

“Not a proper sample, no,” Bruce admits. Dick watches as he swabs the sample and pops it into a vial before inserting it into a machine. “You're actually very conservative with the way you touch things. I haven't been able to pull complete fingerprints, either.”

“I'm going to go ahead and tell you right now that's weird and don't say things like that to other people,” Dick says. Bruce huffs a little laugh. “Anyway, was that intended to be a compliment?”

“It was intended to be, no,” he replies. Dick sits on his desk beside him as his computer processes his dna. “Just an observation. Is that something you do intentionally?”

“No?” he says, bemused. He's typically more concerned about clients trying to roofie, or straight up kill him before he's worried about them trying to ID him. He watches with interest as the computer brings up his dna string and proceeds to tell Bruce there's no match. Dick would imagine not, he shouldn't be on file for anything. Even the GCPD don't take his fingerprints.

“What's _he_ doing down here?” Damian asks irritably as he comes down the stairs. Again, both Dick and Bruce turn to look at him. He does have quite the way of commanding attention.

“Dick already knows my secret identity,” Bruce informs. “He's proven himself trustworthy and he's going to help.” Dick tries not to wince. That definitely wasn't the right way to answer that question. Damian’s look only sours further. Sure, Damian might have more hurdles to overcome to prove his trust than Dick does, but Bruce really shouldn't have said that.

“He sells his body for money,” Damian says pointedly. “You think he won't give away your secrets for money, too? He's no better than a mercenary.”

“And like mercenaries, I have my own morals and ethics,” Dick assures. “Your father may deal with a lot of bad ones, but most mercs are doing the same thing I am; doing whatever they can to provide for themselves and their families. They know their limits and they know how far they'll go before they get there. They have to.” Damian glares at him.

Dick knows what this is about. Damian doesn't like that he has more of Bruce's attention. It's happened before with clients and their kids- though usually his clients aren't so open about the fact that he's a sex worker. It can't be helped, unfortunately. Bruce doesn't know anything about children; it's easier for him to pursue a physical relationship with another adult than it is for him to start an emotional one with a child.

Bruce is an orphan, he barely knows what a family is.

“You work with mercenaries a lot?” Bruce asks.

“I provide them with services sometimes, yeah,” Dick answers. “I'm not a killer and I never will be.” He doesn't even like it when Mask does it on his ‘behalf’, not that Dick ever has a say in the matter. Usually he doesn't even know until it's too late.

Damian huffs and approaches a different monitor to begin working. Bruce goes back to his own work. It's silent for a while and Dick alternates between watching what the two of them are doing. Damian isn't just overly independent, he's completely self sufficient. ‘Trained by his mother’. He doesn't even know _how_ to be a child, does he?

It reminds him of Jason and Tim but worse. Dick's heart aches a little.

“That's not right,” Dick comments off handedly. Bruce looks at him. “Sorry, you were focusing.”

“No no,” he assures. “What's not right?”

“This right here,” Dick says, pointing at the strand displayed. “I noticed it upstairs. Ivy’s metagene lets her synthesis _organic_ compounds; this is synthetic. She could create something with the same effects and symptoms, sure, but it wouldn't be this. Ivy’s also a scientist so she _could_ make something synthetic but why bother?”

“To throw us off her scent,” Damian offers dryly.

“An excellent point,” Dick replies. “But Ivy’s good friends with Catwoman. If she wanted Waylon to do something for her, she'd just get Catwoman to tell him to do it. I like Waylon, but that doesn't mean he's always the greatest guy. He hates Black Mask, anyways, you could bribe him with a steak to attack some False Facers.” Bruce makes a quiet noise as he thinks.

“More importantly, _why_ would she want Waylon to do something for her? She already has a bunch of rent-a-cops which are already way out of her MO, why Waylon?” Dick goes on.

“She was helping him,” Bruce says.

“My thoughts exactly,” Dick agrees.

“Why would she be helping him?” Damian asks.

“Catwoman,” Bruce says.

“That, I don't know,” Dick admits. “But I can tell you for sure, Ivy didn't poison Waylon.” Bruce stands. He starts walking off and immediately, Damian pops to his feet.

“Where are you going?” he demands.

“To have a talk with Catwoman,” Bruce says.

“I'm coming, too,” Damian insists.

“Stay here,” Bruce orders, closing the lift doors without a second thought. Damian sneers unhappily. Dick frowns and after a moment, Damian remembers he's not alone and glares at Dick unpleasantly. What a mean little child. That also reminds him of Jason and Tim. He walks over to Dick, stares at him a second, then looks at the compound still on the screen. After a few moments, he makes an irritated ‘tt’ sound and crosses his arms.

Dick looks around.

“Want to get some ice cream?” he asks.

“I don't like ice cream,” Damian replies sourly.

“Do you like anything?” Dick asks. Damian seems to deflate a little.

“Tea,” he murmurs.

“I'll have some tea with you,” Dick says. Damian makes a face before he storming off again. Halfway across the room he pauses and looks back at Dick expectantly. Somewhere between the lines Dick guesses he was supposed to know Damian was agreeing to that? He hops off Bruce's desk to follow Damian back up to the manor.

“Does Bruce leave you here by yourself a lot?” Dick asks.

“Only when it matters,” Damian grumbles.

"Do you really go out with Batman?" he asks.

"When he doesn't 'conveniently' forget," Damian says. "I'm a trained assassin. Of course I do." He's ten. Batman also doesn't kill, why would he need an assassin, but the ten thing seem more relevant. Dick follows him into the kitchen where he prepares his own pot of tea, surprisingly enough. He starts setting everything on a tray and Dick just watches.

"You don't go to school?" he asks.

"I've already learned everything school could provide me," Damian replies matter-of-factly. Yeah, like communication skills and sociability and being nice and patience for other people. He has all those things down pat.

"What do you do all day?" Dick asks. Damian huffs, taking the tray and leading Dick outside to a little patio outside the manor's den. It is really nice out here. Even with the overcast skies, it's easy to forget they're still in Gotham. Damian sets the tray down and hops into a chair. Dick takes the other one.

"I train," he assures.

"I'll rephrase that; what do you do for _fun_?" Dick clarifies. Damian pours them each some tea, having to sit up on his haunches to reach. He frowns some more.

"I draw?" he finally offers up, like he's not really sure that's the right answer either. "Sugar?"

"Just one, please," Dick agrees. Damian seems to be having a good time doing all this so Dick lets him, watching him fix both dainty little cups of tea. "What do you draw?"

"Landscapes. Still life," Damian says, pouring a little milk in each one. "People, sometimes." He passes Dick the cup and little plate and Dick takes it with a quiet thank you.

"Can I see some?" he asks. Damian raises his chin but it's an unsureness, like he's expecting some kind of ulterior motive or for Dick to admit he's just joking. When a few seconds pass and nothing reveals itself, Damian gets down from his chair and wanders off.

Dick looks out over the yard. It's nice out here. It feels more like a park than a place someone lives, though. Damian returns with a sketchbook and places it on the table before hopping back up into his chair. Once he's settled again, he pushes the book to Dick and Dick sets his tea down to begin browsing through it. This kid draws like a professional artist.

"These are really good, Damian," Dick compliments. Damian preens a little. "You're really talented." In an instant, Damian's entire demeanor changes. It's not a lot, but it is obvious; he's a little less tight, he's a little more happy, he's a little more open. Dick is sure it's not any _one_ thing he did, but he is glad that was fairly easy. The kid's been abused his entire life, a little kindness goes a long way.

"My brother likes photography," Dick says as he continues looking through the various sketches and water colours. "We used to have a little camera for him, one of those old digital things, but it was already roughly used when we got it. He uses his phone but it's not quite the same." Damian drinks his tea and politely listens with a pointy little frown. He remains perked up to see which picture Dick is looking at at any given time.

"My other brother isn't much of the creative type," he admits with a little laugh. "He loves reading but writing is a whole different beast. Sometimes it's even a pain to get him to read. Even now, I think he's afraid at being good at something 'worthless'."

Damian fidgets. It's subdue and if Dick weren't used to reading people, he probably wouldn't notice. He turns a few more pages but Damian doesn't say anything. He probably doesn't know _how_. Dick goes ahead and does the talking for him.

"Would you draw me?" he asks. Damian's entire body language settles down even as he makes a quiet _tt_ noise like it's _such_ an annoying request. He grabs for his sketchbook again and Dick hands it over.

"If you insist," Damian scoffs. Dick just smiles.

It's an easy evening. Dick stays mostly still while Damian sketches and they drink tea and Dick talks when Damian asks. He's a quiet kid but still just a kid; he's so curious. By all the questions he asks, growing more and more comfortable with each one Dick answers without judgement, he's truly been a sheltered child. He wants to know things; he wants to _do_ things.

Dick has to remind himself that Damian is his client's son and, contrary to what it seems, not an abandoned child looking for a home.

Dick has to remind himself Bruce is extremely new to this and he is trying, even if he doesn't even know where to start, and scalping him for not knowing isn't going to help anyone.

Regardless of how angry it makes Dick.

Bruce takes too long getting back so Dick excuses himself from the manor for the night. Alfred pays him, thankfully, and as he's leaving, Damian brings him a book. It looks old but not dusty or forgotten about. Well worn, actually. Dick blinks curiously.

"For your brother," he mumbles begrudgingly. "It's one of my favorites."

"I'm sure he'll love it," Dick assures. "Thank you very much, Damian. I'll bring it back as soon as he's finished, okay?"

Damian nods.

X

Dick drops the two sizable bags on the floor once he's inside the door. He lets out a quiet huff and Tim immediately bounces over to see what he has. Peering into one bag, then the other, he looks at Dick questioningly.

"What's with all the shit?" Jason asks from the couch, his nose pressed into the book Damian lent him. He hasn't taken his nose out of it for nearly a week now. Dick isn't sure if he's finished it and is already rereading it, or if it's just that involved.

"I don't know yet," Dick says. "One of Wayne's assistants dropped it off earlier. More clothes, I'm assuming." Tim starts snooping through the bags.

"Is that, like, his _thing_?" Jason asks. "Buyin' you fancy clothes and takin' you places to show off?"

"I don't think _he_ knows what his 'thing' is," Dick assures mildly. Tim holds up a shirt and looks at it peculiarly.

"This won't fit you," he says. Dick looks at it a moment before deciding he's right; it's too big. He takes it and looks it over closer before looking at the tag. Bruce has his size, he's already bought Dick clothes for the entire cruise, how could he have possibly gotten something in the wrong size. Tim pulls a shirt out of the other bag. "This either."

"This is-" Dick looks at Jason. "This is your size, Jason." Jason lowers his book with a mild expression.

"This is mine?" Tim says. "Are these- for us?" He scrounge through the rest of the bag and Dick shuffles through the other one. Jason puts his book down before slinking over suspiciously. They are, everything in this bag is Jason's size.

"I-" Dick begins but he doesn't know what to say. Bruce bought his brothers clothes? Jason sorts through some of them. Dick definitely didn't ask for this; he doesn't even think he's brought it up. He tries not to talk about his brothers with clients often. Not that it would have taken much to realise they probably need clothes- they barely have food most days.

If Bruce even thought that far. Maybe he bought them just because he felt bad sending so much new stuff to Dick.

"We can't wear these, can we?" Jason suddenly asks. Tim's excited expression falters some. "If Mask sees us in fancy new clothes, he's gonna come askin' questions."

"And if he finds out Bruce is spending this much money on us, he's going to ask for a bigger cut," Tim murmurs. "And potentially make you lose Bruce as a client." Jason drops the shirt he's holding back into the bag and stalks back to the couch to resume reading. They're right, unfortunately, it's happened before.

The difference this time is, Dick doesn't know where the limit is. Bruce is already overpaying him, significantly usually, and it's allowed Dick to build up a decent savings. If he wanted to, he could take his brothers and leave Gotham forever right now. They could go live in Star City with Roy. The problem with that is, Black Mask can and _would_ hunt him down and no amount of money will stop that.

His brothers won't leave without him.

If Dick ups his price, how long until Bruce says no more? Black Mask _will_ keep pushing until Bruce is at his limit. It's not about losing Bruce as a client, though, it's about escalating a situation between Mask and Batman. Bruce has already spoken action against him, how much pushing will make him actually take it? Dick can't imagine it would be much. Swatting that wasps nests will affect all of Gotham, though.

He's truly caught himself between a rock and a hard place.

"Put them in my closet for now," Dick instructs. If Mask does come looking, he won't know the difference. Which at the rate they're going, he might. "We'll go get you some new clothes from the thrift store tomorrow."

"I can barely contain my excitement," Jason says blandly. Tim just sighs. Dick appreciates what Bruce is trying to do for them, he really does, but he wishes he wouldn't.

"How about something nice to eat?" Dick suggests. "We can get pizza?"

"Careful, we don't want Black Mask thinking we're living beyond our means," Jason says sarcastically. "He'll break our door in."

"Pizza sounds nice," Tim agrees quietly. "Can we eat at the parlor?"

"Sure," Dick says. "Go put something warm on." Tim pads off with the bags to put away and Dick sighs. Jason looks at him mildly. He looks back to his book again.

"Did you get in another fight?" Dick asks. Jason scoffs at him. He's absolutely riddled with bruises- again. It's not like Dick isn't going to notice. " _Jason_."

"Is there a right answer to that?" Jason answers.

"'No Dick, I haven't been in any fights'?" Dick says.

" _No Dick, I haven't been in any fights_ ," Jason mimics back.

"And what's the _true_ answer?" Dick asks.

"Well, it wasn't at school," Tim assures, returning in his oversized sweater. "He's been gettin' hurt a lot lately and I don't know where. Yet."

"And you never will, you little-" Jason growls.

" _Jason_ ," Dick snips. "Just- please be careful, okay?" He knows Jason isn't stupid, he just wants to know he's safe when he's out doing stupid things. "And please stop leaving Tim alone. He's like fifty pounds wet."

"He was in the park, he's fine," Jason scoffs.

"I'm going to change," Dick says, rubbing his eyes in his fingers. "Then we can go. Work on your homework in the meantime please, Tim."

"Alright," Tim murmurs begrudgingly.

He's starting to think agreeing to go on that cruise was a mistake for more reasons than one.


	3. Docks

Honestly, Dick's a little surprised with himself to be actually going through with this. He knows leaving his brothers alone for a single night isn't as big of a deal as he is making it out to be, but he can't quel the anxiety for that situation anyways. Leaving his brothers alone, being isolated on a boat for two days, being alone with Bruce for much of it; he's a little anxious, yeah.

Bruce didn't so much pick out clothes for him as he just sort of sent Dick a bagful and left him to his own decisions. Obviously Bruce really doesn't care what he wears, some clients don't, he just wants to make sure Dick has plenty _to_ wear. Which is just as well; Dick does know how to dress for the occasion whatever that may be.

Dick's thoughts still linger on the two bags on the floor of his closet.

"Nervous?" Bruce asks. Dick stops staring out the car window long enough to look at him then look back. They're close enough to the water that it's all Dick can see. The cruise is just around Gotham but that doesn't change the fact that it's not landlocked water; it's the ocean. The wide, open ocean.

"A little," Dick admits. He hasn't been on a trip with a client in a long time now and never on one like this. Not to mention he still feels weird going out on Bruce 'the most eligible bachelor in Gotham' Wayne's arm. The whole 'oh, you're gay now' thing is just icing on the cake.

This was such a bad idea.

"Again, you do realise people are going to start recognising me and will out you in a second, right?" Dick reminds him. Bruce sets a comforting hand on his knee.

"Let me worry about that," he insists. "I've already informed my PR department about the situation so any leaks that do get out will be handled properly." Dick makes a bit of a face but, as of now, nothing bad has come from them being seen together so he'll take Bruce's word for it. He has no doubt Wayne Enterprises has a very good PR department- and very good lawyers to back them up.

Dick decides not to ask what story Bruce told his PR people.

"If you're sure," he murmurs. Bruce wants him to stand in like an actual significant other and everything. Sure, he's paying enough, but it just seems so weird to Dick. He just announced he has a kid, bringing Damian would surely turn out better. Hell, going alone has never hurt his reputation in the past.

"I am," Bruce confirms. "Thank you for agreeing to come with me."

"Right, yeah," Dick replies and he gives Bruce a sheepish little smile. He can't say much. Being seen with Bruce Wayne has boosted his other clients quite a bit which in turn has made Black Mask happier with him than usual which, in some roundabout way, is keeping Mask off his ass.

The car comes to a stop and Dick can't help but flinch at the gathering of people waiting. A few of them are here to board but a large majority of them are press and paparazzi who immediately start taking pictures before the doors are even open. Dick is extremely glad the windows are tinted as they are. While he's used to answering questions, usually in a way that brushes the problem off on someone else, he doesn't particularly enjoy it. The press can get mean, especially when he's not forthcoming with answers.

"You'll be fine," Bruce promises quietly. Dick knows he will be, he just doesn't like it. Bruce gets out of the car and while he walks around to give Dick a hand, Dick fixes his expression. He grins, bypassing his discomfort and anxiety to look like a good little date. It's effortless for him now, he's been at this job long enough to know how to act and when. Bruce smiles as Dick takes his arm and they head for the ship. Their bags are managed by someone else, obviously.

The press ask questions and insist on answers but Bruce just smiles and waves as they walk. He's obviously been at this a long time, too. Dick sticks to his arm and gives a similar, friendly faced wave for the cameras as they walk. Private security keeps anyone without a pass off the boat so once they're actually boarded, it's much quieter. Some still take pictures from the dock but Dick doubts they're very good ones. Other attendees are already mingling on the deck where the little start up party is happening.

Just like last time, Dick holds onto Bruce's arm and just smiles as he talks to people. He ignores any statements directed at him and answers any questions as necessary but really, no one has much of an interest in him. He's just an accessory for Bruce. Dick prefers that over having to mingle with these rich people. Some of who definitely recognise him.

He wonders if they'll say anything.

Dick has a little of the champagne but doesn't actually drink. It's not very good and the 'edible' gold flakes make his stomach hurt, anyways. The snacks aren't half bad at least and he munches as he watches Bruce meander his way through conversations with people. It's just more rich people talk, stuff about stocks and investments and companies- Dick could literally not care less. Overall, it's not the worst time, though. This is what Dick is actually used to; smiling and looking pretty while his client mingles.

It's as the ship is beginning to leave dock that Dick sees him. He almost spits out his champagne he's so startled. That's not good. That's _really_ not good. Bruce notices of course and looks at him quietly without drawing too much attention to the off behavior. Dick swiftly covers his mouth with his hand, but by the time they look back, he's already gone. _Shit_.

"Dick?" Bruce says, a warning edge to his tone. Dick looks back to the dock they're much too quickly drifting away from. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , he knew this was a bad idea. He knew he was anxious for a reason. This isn't the reason he was expecting, honestly, but- _fuck_. Hastily, he sets his flute down on the tray of a passing wait staff and calms himself. If he looks visibly distressed, that's going to look bad on Bruce. He smiles politely at Bruce then the couple he's talking with who are truly too self centered to have noticed anything off.

"Excuse me," Dick murmurs and excuses himself from the conversation. Bruce gives him a questioning look as he wanders off through the crowd toward the ship's cabins. Once he's sure he's out of sight of the party, he looks around more briskly. He's found first- unsurprisingly really. Without any warning, his arm is grabbed and he's yanked into a cabin and shoved against the door to pin it closed. Dick sneers unhappily.

"What are you doing here?" he asks shortly.

"I'm here for you, of course," Slade answers. Dick shoves him off and Slade grabs his face roughly, pushing him even harder into the door. He holds Dick there a second, staring him through, before slowly releasing him. Dick shoves at him again and this time he goes. He takes a few steps back and Dick straightens out his shirt irritably. For all he knows, Slade was invited. He's dressed like he was, he's even wearing his fake eye like the white hair isn't going to tip anyone off.

Why _wouldn't_ Bruce invite Deathstroke?

"I'm not for hire by _you_ anymore," Dick snaps as he straightens his collar again. "You know that." Slade leans back against the desk and crosses his arms with a far too cocky, but far from unusual, expression. He doesn't really smile, never really has, but it's aggravating nonetheless.

"I'm not here to purchase your services," he assures. Dick lifts his chin unsurely, ready to defend himself if need be. He knows he's no match for Slade but he'd only need to put up a loud fight until Bruce showed up. If he even got that chance. No, he knows Slade isn't here to hire him. After their last 'conflict', Slade seemed to have finally backed off. That makes this appearance even less welcome and far more concerning.

"What do you _want_ , Slade?" Dick demands. Slade fixes his cuffs nonchalantly.

"Someone put a bounty out on you," he says. Slade wouldn't kill him, of that Dick is sure. " _Alive_." That's about how his life has been going lately, yeah. Slade's here to kidnap him. That's fucking fantastic.

"And you decided to come warn me out of the goodness of your heart?" Dick says sarcastically.

"I'm fulfilling it," Slade replies. Dick sneers at him.

"Who," he demands.

"You'll find out," he says. Dick can take a wild guess and assume it's an old client that wants him back. It's, fortunately or otherwise, only the second time someone has tried to put a bounty out on him. Black Mask caught the first one; looks like he didn't catch this one. He's certain it's not the same guy, at least. Dick looks away in annoyment.

It's not like he can fight Slade off and running isn't going to get him far. Bruce- Dick puts his head in his hand. Bruce is going to involve himself no matter what. A situation like this, he might just make matters worse. Dick isn't sure how, but he's confident Bruce can manage. He looks back at Slade with an even more sour look.

"I'll ask again, what do _you_ want, Slade?" Dick snaps. Slade is telling him this for a reason. If it was really just about the money, he wouldn't waste time talking about it, he'd just take Dick and go. Slade smirks.

"I'll always take you," he assures.

"Pass," Dick deadpans back. To Slade, he's just another trophy. Slade wants to own him. Lots of people do but not like Slade does. That's not happening.

"You're getting close with Wayne," Slade goes on, obviously already knowing the answer to his first offer. "I'll tell your 'admirer' you're off limits if you give me some information in return." Dick clenches his teeth.

"What kind of information?" he asks.

"Wayne is the richest man in Gotham," Slade says. "Something _good_."

"He likes being handcuffed to the bed and his nipples clamped," Dick offers with a smile. An amused glint comes to Slade's eye but he doesn't budge and he doesn't say anything. "I don't know what you're expecting. I'm just a sex worker, Slade. I don't pry into my clients' lives."

"When this ship returns to dock, you're coming with me," Slade tells him. Dick crosses his arms unhappily.

"And if I don't?" he asks.

"That's not an option," Slade replies. He makes a gesture with his head. "Go on, tell Wayne if you want. This is my cabin for the night." If he wasn't invited, obviously someone who's now probably dead was. Slade knows where he lives, who his brothers are, _where_ they are. As much as Dick knows Slade would never kill him, he also knows Slade can hurt him. A lot. Going quietly is probably the easiest way to deal with this. Whoever put the bounty out in the first place is likely far less dangerous.

"There's nothing else?" Dick asks, his tone low and seductive. He reaches for his collar, giving the button a suggestive tug. "It's been a while, Slade. You're looking good as ever."

"I've already sampled your goods plenty," Slade assures. "I'm only looking to buy now." And he would. If Dick said so, Slade would buy him out from Black Mask in a heartbeat and Slade isn't a man even Mask would say no to in that sort of situation. Dick always keeps that option in the back of his mind. Slade has kids of his own even, and he'd let Jason and Tim come with him. They'd probably get along well.

To be owned by Slade. He'd hardly be home, he'd show Dick off when he wanted to, house him, feed him, clothe him- and fuck him when he wanted to.

But unlike other clients who fall in love with him and want to buy off the 'shackles' of his job, Slade doesn't love him. Maybe never has. Has _obsessed_ , maybe, but never loved. He's just an item to Slade; a thing to be bought and sold. His binds to Black Mask are not monetary. If Slade were to 'buy' him, though, there'd always be that price tag over his head. How long until Slade grew bored and sold him off? Or worse.

He's a dick, anyways.

"Are you really going to step on Roman's toes like this?" Dick asks.

"Roman is of no concern to me," Slade says. Bastard.  
  
Dick bites his lip as he looks off again.

Slade may look it, but he's not unarmed. He never is. His staff is probably in his sleeve, a small caliber on his waist, two knives on his back maybe more; Dick could kill him. He'd never say no to _free_ sex. He'd expect it, he expects everything, but Dick _knows_ his blindspots. When he stubs out his after sex cigarette, when he checks the sights on his gun, when he throws his weight right and rolls them over because he likes Dick on top.

He wouldn't stay dead but Dick could drop him in the water. Weigh him down so he'd never have enough air to make it back to the surface.

Little Red Riding Hood style.

But Dick isn't a killer. Even if it's Slade.

"I'll go," Dick says mildly. "Just don't make a scene."

"Keep Wayne's security down and that won't be a problem," he promises. Yeah, because Dick has control over that. He gives Slade one last nasty look before letting himself out of the room and irritably fixing himself in the hall again. Once he's sure he's presentable, and capable of entering the crowd without blowing a gasket, he heads back to the party on deck.

Dick is honestly a little surprised Bruce didn't follow him. Not that Dick wanted him to. He only would have escalated the situation. He rejoins Bruce's side with a little smile and nod at the new company he's entertaining. Bruce talks with them a bit more and in the meantime, Dick takes a new flute of champagne and downs it in a few drinks. It's not nearly enough to get rid of his headache.

Bruce urges the people he's talking with to enjoy the party before taking himself and Dick out of the crowd and toward one of the edge railings. Dick rubs his eyes tiredly as he leans against it. It's not much quieter over here but at least they're out of ear shot.

"Are you alright?" Bruce asks. "What was that about?"

"Deathstroke is here," Dick hisses back. Immediately, Bruce is on high alert. He's not wrong to be but Slade obviously isn't here to cause a commotion otherwise they'd already be in the thick of it. Slade errs more on the side of strategic flamboyance than needless dramatics. "Did you invite him?"

"I didn't invite _Deathstroke_ , no," Bruce assures mildly.

"Did you invite Slade Wilson?" Dick asks.

"No," Bruce answers indignantly.

"Let's hope you _did_ ," Dick scoffs. "Otherwise you'll be looking for one of your guests in the obituary next." Bruce clenches his jaw unhappily. That makes two of them. He looks out at the party to make sure everything is going fine, and likely to check for Slade, before turning back again.

"What does he want?" he asks.

"He's here to collect a bounty someone put on me," Dick explains. "When we dock again, I'm supposed to get off with him."

"No," Bruce says.

"'Not an option'," Dick says sarcastically. "Look, I don't like it either but I don't have a lot of other choices. He knows about Jason and Tim, Bruce. He's hurt them before." Bruce only clenches his teeth even harder. Dick's worried he might actually break his jaw off. He puts a hand on Bruce's chest gently but Bruce doesn't seem particularly open to the idea of calming down right now.

"You're familiar with Deathstroke?" he asks shortly. Dick nods.

"He's done some work for Black Mask," he explains. "I'm Mask's favorite; he wanted to know why. Let's just say he found out." Bruce stares somewhere else. "He liked me. Whenever he'd do work for Mask, part of his money would go to me keeping him company. Even when he was just in town or passing through, he'd pay me to spend the night with him. He- racked up quite the bills."

"Then he found out about your brothers," Bruce says, the anger coming in thick in his voice.

"No, I told him," Dick murmurs. Bruce looks at him questioningly and Dick ruffles his hair as he looks down into the water. "Slade said he'd get me away from Black Mask, Bruce. He promised he'd take me and my brothers away and I- I believed him. I was young and stupid and careless." Some of Bruce's anger becomes apologetic.

"Black Mask black listed him after some guys took me hostage thinking I was working for Deathstroke. Got the shit kicked out of me, got my knee broken, almost died," Dick goes on. He gestures to his leg a little and the way he can't turn it quite right anymore. The pin they put in doesn't give him as much flexibility. "Slade obviously didn't like that. You don't- you don't tell a guy like Slade 'no'."

"Dick," Bruce says softly and he puts a hand on his shoulder if not awkwardly. The party going on behind them is a weird backdrop for this and it almost makes Dick laugh.

"He showed up while I was working, looking to buy my time. I let him. _I_ wasn't about to tell him no," he says and he does laugh a little. "Mask found out of course, and they got into it. Later Slade showed up at my apartment. Said he was taking me and my brothers. I knew he was- _rough_ , but I don't know. I saw him hit Jason and I lost it. I guess realising I wasn't actually just some obedient little toy, he let his true colours show, too. We got into a fight, said he'd kill Jason if we didn't go with him."

Dick tilts his head back to look up at the sky.

"I don't think he really would have," he says. "But I don't know anymore. Mask got involved, fortunately dare I say. He wasn't exactly happy with me, either. He threatened to take my brothers away of they were going to be this much trouble. I think they both learned something about me after that. Neither of them have bothered my brothers since."

They're both quiet for a moment. Bruce tentatively gives him a comforting pat and Dick huffs a laugh. The effort is there, he guesses. Slade is here and this is no time to be keeping secrets. Besides, it was only a matter of time before Bruce found out on his own anyways. Dick prefers being the one to tell him outright.

"You didn't have to tell me this," he says quietly. "Thank you. I'm not trying to control you, Dick. I really do just want to help." Dick shakes his head absently.

"Slade usually keeps his distance," he murmurs. "He knows Black Mask will put up more of a fuss than it's worth. I don't know what he wants. He wouldn't take a bounty on me without getting something out of it. Something more than money."

"Theories?" Bruce asks. Dick can only shrug.

"He wouldn't say who posted the bounty. If they want me alive, it's probably an old client," he says. "No one Slade would have any reason to _want_ to work for. He said he'd drop it if I gave him information about you. Maybe he's hoping I'll take him up on that?"

"What kind of information?" Bruce asks. Dick laughs.

"Don't bother," he says. "Slade will keep fishing regardless of what you tell him. Our best course of action is for me to go with him. It'll be easier to get away from whoever posted my bounty than it will be to shake Slade."

"We don't know who posted your bounty," Bruce reminds him shortly. "They could be more trouble."

"In this case, Bruce, the devil we don't know is far more preferred than the one we do," Dick assures. There are extremely few people who he'd be worse off with and none of them would pay Slade to kidnap him. Besides, if Slade is looking to fulfill some ulterior motive, giving him exactly what he asks for probably isn't what he wants.

Bruce starts walking off and Dick grabs his arm to stop him.

"Where are you going?" he asks pointedly.

"To talk to Wilson," Bruce confirms. Dick pulls him in close again.

"If Batman shows up suddenly, he's going to put it together that it's you," he earns quietly. "Slade isn't an idiot, Bruce." Bruce leans in to whisper in his ear.

"I was just going to offer him double," he says. Dick blinks at him curiously and they both laugh a little. "If he's after a payday-"

"He'll take the money," Dick says. He puts a hand on Bruce's chest to usher him back. "Not- not right now, okay? If you go talk to him now, he'll know I came out and immediately told you what happened and he'll think I trust you. The last thing we want is Slade thinking we're that close." Bruce looks him overly quietly for a moment but ultimately, gives the slightest nod of agreement. Dick sighs as they lean against the railing again and he grooms his hands through his hair. At this rate, he's going to be grey by the time he's twenty five.

"Do you trust me, Dick?" Bruce asks. Dick looks at him mildly, then back to the party before looking out over the water. Gotham still looms in the distance but they're a fair ways away now. Dick turns to face the party again.

"I believe you're doing what _you_ think is best," he says. Dick leans into him and rests his head on Bruce's chest gently. "I trust you won't let anything happen to me or my brothers and I appreciate that. A lot. It's tiring fending for ourselves sometimes."

To that, Bruce doesn't really respond. Dick supposed there's not a lot for him to say. He definitely trusts Batman a little more than he trusts Bruce, if not only because Bruce seems to put more honesty into the mask. It's easier for some people; it's exhausting for Dick.

"Well, we have a party to entertain for now," Dick murmurs. "We should get back to that. After the last gala, the less of a scene we cause, the better."

"Dick, you don't have to 'save face' for me," Bruce says. "Your safety and comfort comes first, even if dealing with Wilson makes a 'scene'." Dick pats Bruce's arm.

"I'm most comfortable when people aren't spreading rumors about me being bad luck," he scoffs back. "The gesture's sweet Bruce, really, but I don't live in the same kind of vacuum you do. How people _see_ me, _affects_ me. Can we please just-" he motions to the party with a hand. Bruce gives him a mute look, whether it's on the side of sad or unhappy, Dick is too stressed to really bother trying to tell the difference.

"Of course," he says quietly. They go back to mingling.

X

Dick 'gets' to stand at the back of the podium when they finally move on from the party. With everyone gathered down below dock, seated around the fancy room at their assigned tables, Dick can see them better. Slade, unsurprisingly, isn't here and Dick can be at least a little relaxed. Many women have stood where he stands now and many more will; being put on display so boldly as Wayne's 'boyfriend' is getting more and more uncomfortable.

So far, being seen with Wayne has boosted his business. Dick isn't sure how long that's going to last especially if Bruce keeps driving home the 'boyfriend' lie. If he loses his other business, Mask isn't going to be pleased.

But Dick has more important things to worry about first. Namely Slade and un-namely, whoever hired Slade. As Bruce begins his speech, Dick zones out completely. There's no way Slade's in this for the money and there's no way he was 'threatened' into it. He's a strange man for strange reasons and that makes it nearly impossible to try to figure out what he wants.

No, he _wants_ Dick. While he didn't lie to Bruce, Dick isn't about to make a habit of lying to Batman, he might have left out some things. Slade doesn't love him, Slade doesn't know _how_ , but he isn't a bad man. Dick wouldn't keep his offer in mind if he was.

It's complicated.

Bruce finishes speaking, everyone claps, and then someone _else_ starts speaking. Dick barely manages not to roll his eyes. These things always go one forever, he swears. He might be getting paid to look pretty but with his anxiety as high as it is, every second is torture. Bruce comes to stand beside him and Dick gives him a little pat.

"That was very nice," he murmurs quietly.

"You weren't listening to a word I said," Bruce replies, not angry just factual.

"Oh god no," Dick says. "You know I just love to hear your voice, baby." Bruce subtly clears his throat, a faint flush crossing his features. Dick arches an amused brow at him. "Is that is? You want _me_ to be the _daddy_?"

"No," Bruce says and Dick covers his little laugh with his hand. "Are you alright? You don't look good."

"Fine," Dick assures fleetingly. "I don't know if I hate not knowing where Slade is or would hate him here more. He says he's here for me but that doesn't mean that's all he's here for."

"If anything happens-" Bruce begins.

"You're here, I know," Dick murmurs. "Deathstroke kind of respects you, you know." That gets a quiet laugh out of Bruce. "I'm serious. Do you know how hard it is to fool Slade? Let alone stop him."

"I do, actually," Bruce says and Dick laughs.

"Right," he replies.

The speaker drones on as the crowd sips away at their champagne. Dick tunes it all out; it's nothing interesting to him and even less important. Eventually, though, they do finally shut up and wait staff begin bringing out food. He might be anxious but Dick can always eat. Hopefully it's half decent food. Bruce approaches the microphone again.

"Thank you very much for that informative speech. Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but food smells delicious. Tomorrow morning, we have our product testing for you all to view on the deck and tonight, please feel free to roam about the ship. You'll find different showcases on each level and the people there will gladly answer any and all questions you have."

Everyone claps and Dick joins in quietly. This seems like so much just to show off a patent. Maybe he just doesn't understand big business or whatever sort of big business WayneTec is- let alone Wayne Enterprises. As long as he gets paid, he supposes it doesn't matter. Bruce offers his arm, a sign to come along, and Dick gladly takes it to get off this damn stage.

The table they sit at, fortunately, isn't any of the rich people Bruce was talking to on deck. If Dick is right, these are some WayneTec employees. Their discussions are a little more bearable but still a bit out of Dick's league. Instead of unnecessary capitalism jargon, it leans more on the side of uppity science jargon. Dick's a performer, an athlete _maybe_ , not a scientist. Bruce actually seems engaged in this discussion, though, so Dick makes himself pay attention at least a little bit.

He pays less attention while he's politely cramming food into his mouth. It actually is pretty good.

"Why not use a latex polymer instead?" is the first thing Dick says, without thinking, since sitting down nearly forty minutes ago. "It would make your finished product lighter, easier to apply, and solve the cracking issue." The table goes silent. Dick stops chewing for a moment, looking at them, then looking at Bruce, then awkwardly somewhere else.

"Uh, sorry," he murmurs.

"No, that's an interesting thought," Bruce encourages. "Go on."

"I'd rather not," Dick tells him under his breath.

"Please, I'd actually like to hear this," another man urges and Dick honestly can't tell if he's being serious or he wants Dick to embarrass himself further. Dick clears his throat uncomfortably.

"There's really no reason to use silicone in an everyday product," he murmurs. "It's more expensive in the long run and more heavy duty than any _normal_ person needs. For, uh, more intense uses, sure-" The Batsuit and mobile and whatever other Bat-things that this was, undoubtedly, originally designed for. But Dick won't say that. "Having to apply a thick layer just to stop it from cracking doesn't help. If you use a latex mix instead, it would still be durable enough for daily use and not as heavy. Plus, latex is more flexible and easier to apply."

There's some more silence while everyone seems to think about it. The same man, Lucius Fox his nameplate reads, touches his chin thoughtfully.

"But latex won't blend with the compound," he says curiously.

"That's why I said polymer?" Dick replies. He reaches for Bruce and takes the pen out of his suit pocket. Bruce glances over his shoulder as he draws on his hand before showing it off, first to Fox then to the rest of the curious table. "Assuming this is the compound you're currently using."

"That- well yes, it is, but how did you-?" Fox trails off with a perplexed expression. Dick licks his thumb to rub off some of the ink on his hand and draw something else in its place.

"If you take away this and this and add the latex binder instead," he murmurs. Dick shows the new compound off and everyone at the table stares at it blankly for several long seconds. Then they're all taking their notebooks out and hastily scribbling away. Bruce considers it deeply without taking notes.

"He's- oh he's right," one of them finally says, breaking out into a grin.

"That's brilliant," Fox murmurs in agreement. "What did you say your name was?"

"Dick Grayson," Dick introduces himself again. Bruce smiles minutely.

"What is it that you _do_ , Mr. Grayson?" Fox inquires in amazement. Dick looks at Bruce. He has no idea what Bruce has been telling people.

"He's an escort," Bruce assures. Everyone at the table laughs and almost immediately, Dick sours. He reels his annoyment back quickly, though. Haha, very funny, he's an idiot because he's a sex worker. Someone like Bruce could never keep the company of a sex worker, ha. Someone as pretty as him could never be a sex worker. Ha. Ha. Ha.

He's never heard that before.

"I see," Fox says humorously. "Well I, for one, hope Bruce can keep you." The only thing Bruce will be 'keeping' is his foot in his mouth at this rate. Dick just smiles to the best of his ability.

"May I?" Dick asks, gesturing to Fox's notepad. He hurriedly turns it to a new page with a nod and pushes it across the table at him. "This is a good base, actually." He draws the compound again but this time, adds a few more notes. Everyone at the table hovers to watch what he's doing. It's really not that impressive; just some things he learned from Roy and Kory bickering all the time over things.

"Blending it at high temperatures then 'pulling' it while it's hot to form string and using that to weave a fabric, like so, would result in a flexible, waterproof but still light weight and nearly _bulletproof_ material. You'd still suffering impact damage, obviously, there's no absorption, but you'd be hard pressed to rip through it," Dick explains.

"Wouldn't it work better like this?" one of them asks, sliding her notes over to compare with his. Dick looks it over thoughtfully. He can already see the staggering differences between his, someone who only barely knowing what he's doing, and her neat, professional ones. It makes him feel out of place all over again.

"Uh, I mean yes?" Dick agrees. "I can tell you right now that would chafe like hell. I- could be wrong, though." The group of them start discussing more and more and Dick gets lost in their excessive jargon easily. He has a headache all of a sudden.

Bruce puts a hand on his shoulder.

"You're exceptionally smart, Dick, do you know that?" he says quietly. Dick rubs one of his temples.

"Right. Thanks. I'm- I'm going to go to our room," he answers. "I think I'm getting seasick." Bruce frowns at him a little but nods. With a motion of the hand, he beckons a staff member over to lead Dick to their room. Of course, no one else seems to notice him leave the table. Dick ruffles his hair with his hand as he's lead through the cabins.

He's just gotten to their room when, of course, Slade decides to come out of wherever he was hiding. Dick gives him an unamused look as he heads inside the master suite and leaves the door open for Slade to follow in. It's not like locking him out would do any good. He tugs his suit jacket off and hastily starts undoing buttons of his shirt while Slade closes the door. It's several seconds of Slade not saying anything before Dick turns to him, pulling his cuffs open as he does.

"Well?" he asks impatiently. "I already told you I'd go with you _when we dock_. What do you want now?" Slade leans against the door, crossing his as with a grin.

"Someone's in a bad mood," he says. "What's wrong? Not having as much fun with Wayne as you thought you would?"

"Not your business," Dick replies fleetingly. He's way off base, anyways. "What do you want, Slade? What was the point of tagging along on the ride, anyways? Why not just grab me, I don't know, any other time?"

"Felt like a boat ride," Slade answers. Dick shucks his shirt off with a shake of the head and tosses it aside. He feels a little better not suffocating in that thing now.

"If you're just here to bother me, you can leave," Dick assures. Slade doesn't say anything for a while, just watching as Dick licks his shoes off and strips down to his underwear.

"Wayne ask you to look like that?" he finally asks, nodding his head at Dick vaguely.

" _Not your business_ ," Dick repeats, growing more irate. More silence.

"How's your knee? Pyg might be a creep but he does decent work," Slade says. Dick doesn't say anything. "You always get yourself into the deepest trouble, don't ya, kid. You don't know anything about Wayne." Dick laughs bitterly.

"Is that what this is about? Are you trying to _protect_ me now, Slade?" he asks. "Incredible."

"I was always trying to protect you," Slade replies, more even sounding than what's honest.

"Yeah? By _breaking_ my knee," Dick shoots back with nothing but venom. Slade doesn't react. "It's good, by the way. Mask made him do it without anesthesia for pissing him off. Pyg was obviously more than happy to go with it."

"I taught you a lesson," Slade says.

"I know you don't want to admit it Slade, but I _know_ you," Dick says, forgoing any kind of response to the prior statement. "You wouldn't take a bounty on me. You wouldn't willingly give me to someone else for _any_ amount of money. So tell me what this is actually about or leave."

"Come with me," Slade says.

"No," Dick says. Slade lifts his chin ever so slightly. He's not grinning anymore. He leaves. Dick has to catch his breath once he's gone; more out of anger and frustration than anything else.

What the hell has Bruce gotten himself into? What has he gotten _Dick_ into.

Left in peace, Dick has a quick search of the room just to make sure nothing's out of place or missing. Once he's satisfied with that, he locks the door and slips into the bathroom. Oh _thank god_ , this place does have a tub. That's just what he needs right now. Dick throws in some of the fancy bubble bath, draws the water, and climbs into the warmth with a low groan.

This whole trip was a mistake but the bath almost makes up for it.

Dick gets to soak for a good while before he hears the door open again. By footsteps, it's Bruce, and when he looks up to peer out of the room, sure enough, Bruce looks back at him inquisitively. He comes in and Dick looks up at him a moment before offering a little smile. Bruce huffs a small, amused noise.

"Still 'seasick'?" he asks.

"Your science buddies were a little much for me, sorry," Dick admits. "Hope I didn't make a scene."

"You didn't. You know I won't allow them to steal any of your ideas, right?" Bruce says. "I can get you compensated for them, if-"

"That's not what upset me, Bruce," Dick assures. "Trust me, there's nothing to steal. I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry. I'm just here to be pretty."

"Dick," Bruce says softly and he laughs. "You really don't know how smart you are, do you? That back there really was brilliant. I'm glad you said something."

"Parroting back some shit I've heard from other people in a different order isn't 'brilliant'," Dick replies mildly. Kori's brilliant. Roy's brillant. Dick just makes it by.

"It puts you on par with some of my development team," Bruce assures. He's given a bland look. "I've realised too late that didn't sound like a compliment." Dick scoffs a laugh. "You recognised that the structure of the substance we found on Waylon was synthetic. You reverse engineered our patent _in your head_ , Dick, then _improved_ it. That's a little more 'parroting' back."

"Or maybe I helped Black Mask drug Waylon, putting him on a violent rampage, and pointing out it wasn't organic made you make the connection to Catwoman," Dick says. Bruce doesn't say anything but his entire demeanor changes. "Maybe I broke into your files when you left me all alone with your son who I've convinced to trust me. Saw the patent design and who knows what else. Agreed to keep you busy on this trip while Mask does his thing on the mainland and called Deathstroke for backup in case things get sticky."

More silence. They stare at each other.

"None of that was true," Bruce says.

"No," Dick replies, lifting a leg out of the water with a hum. "But it could have been. You trusted me on some arbitrary gut feeling. Tell me the truth, Bruce, why are you doing this? Why me? What are you trying to use me for?"

"I'm not using you, Dick," Bruce says. "If you'd let me-"

"You'd what? Take me on a _real_ date?" Dick says sarcastically. Bruce's jaw firms.

"What did Wilson say?" he asks after a long, quiet moment. Dick sinks further into the water. "What happened, Dick?"

"What do you want from me, Bruce?" Dick asks again, quieter this time. "I'm not your boyfriend. I don't even know if I'm your _friend_. You're Bruce _Wayne_ , you can have your pick of anyone- why me?"

"Because I _like_ you," Bruce says. "If you're so sure I can have 'my pick', then I 'picked' you."

"I'm just a _nobody_. I'm just- I'm just a stupid sex worker doing anything to get a dollar," Dick assures with a quiet, defeated sigh. "You should really pick someone else."

"You make me think about what I'm doing," Bruce says. Dick gives him a bland, unsure look.

"Bruce-" he sighs.

"You make me think about the people that care about me, Dick, something I haven't always been good at. You make me think about how my actions affect people," Bruce goes on. Dick stares down into the bubbly water with more of a frown than he wants to show. "My life- it's easy for me to get caught up in the 'big picture', Dick. I know I haven't known you long but you make me feel- you make me _feel_. I'm sorry I don't always show that in the best ways."

And Dick wants to believe him, he really does, but it's hard. _The_ Batman finds a new perspective on life from a sex worker and they fall in love happily ever after. It just sounds like some subplot to a shitty action movie. One where Dick would probably die at the end of, anyways. He looks up at Bruce solemnly and Bruce holds a hand out for him. Dick takes it, climbing out of his now cool bath, and Bruce wraps a towel around him.

"At the very least, I do consider you my friend, Dick," he says. Dick gives him a small smile.

In for a penny, in for a pound, right?

"Are you done for tonight?" Dick asks, drying himself off a little more while Bruce begins taking off his suit jacket and tie. He plops down on the edge of the bed. "No more Big Wayne Business?" Bruce laugh.

"No," he assures. "Not until morning." Dick watches him as he loosens up a little. Much like himself, Bruce seems more comfortable not all dressed up- even if he looks better in his suit than Dick does. He comes to sit beside him and Dick moves to touch a hand to his chest, slides it under the open collar of his shirt then up his neck and to his nape. Dick leans in to kiss him and Bruce meets him halfway. Bruce puts a hand on his waist.

"This is the first time we'll spend a night together, you know," Dick murmurs. "I mean, without you being poisoned."

"Can't say I remember much of that one," Bruce admits in amusement. Dick runs a hand up Bruce's thigh.

"Why don't we make this night special? We can rut with our clothes _off_ , this time," he suggests. He feels Bruce shudder minutely. "Maybe even to _orgasm_ this time." As usual, Bruce has to have an internal struggle with himself first, one that Dick definitely has a dog in with his supporting kisses and touches.

"Okay," he agrees finally and Dick draws his hand up to snap the button of his slacks open with a grin."I'll pay."

"I _know_ , Bruce," Dick assures in amusement. He wraps his arm around Bruce's neck and gets up on his knees for some more leverage in their kiss. "You don't have to keep saying that." He already knows well if he asks, Bruce will give him money- no questions asked.

Bruce would probably do a lot of things if Dick just asked.

He still tries to take it relatively slow, helping Bruce unbutton the rest of his shirt and slide it off before tossing it aside. Unless something's changed, and Dick severely doubts it has, he's still the first man Bruce has been with and he wants to make sure Bruce can stop without feeling the need to be forceful about it. Dick knows from experience, unfortunately, sometimes the first time with a man, especially _for_ a man, can be a little rough.

Bruce doesn't seem to be having that issue, though. He kisses back and he touches and he absently helps Dick finish undressing him all without a flinch. In fact, he seems kind of- excited, actually. It's Bruce's own internal dialogue that's kept them from proceeding with the physical part of this relationship, not his lack of want for it. It's a little amusing. Dick strokes his cock, not fully hard yet, though his pants and Bruce reaches to grab the back of his neck.

"If you just tell me what you like, Bruce, I can indulge you," Dick insists. He pulls Bruce's cock out and jesus fucking christ he's big. Of course Bruce is built like a giant of a man and from previous rub ups, Dick knew he was well endowed, sure, but _holy shit_? He puts that in people?

"Dick," Bruce says, a hint of humor to his voice. "I'm not hiding anything from you-" Okay, that's not true. "I've simply never thought about 'what I like' in that way."

"Surely you have some idea," Dick urges. "Something you find especially sexy?" Bruce shakes his head a little and Dick sits back, looking at him curiously.

"Sex has always been a means to an end for me," he says. "I've never put that much thought into it."

"Do you _want_ to have sex?" Dick asks. He was right, obviously, Bruce doesn't seem to actually enjoying the playboy persona he puts on. Enforcing the idea that Dick is his boyfriend is probably giving him a well deserved break from that- whether it's a conscious decision or not.

"With you, I do, yes," Bruce replies. That- oh, Bruce just wants to make his life as difficult and complicated as possible. It also sounds surprisingly familiar, though. Dick sighs and he smiles a little.

"When you're ready," he assures. Bruce laughs and he nods as he brings Dick back in for a kiss. Dick strokes his cock, feeling it grow stiff in his hand. It's a lot to hold onto, that's for sure. "Pants on or off?"

"Off," Bruce grunts back. Dick gives him some room to stand again and while Bruce rids himself of his slacks and boxers, Dick tosses his towel aside. He climbs further up on the bed and settles comfortably right in the middle of it. It's a lot more comfortable than most places Dick sleeps, not that he's surprised. While Bruce definitely isn't bashful about nudity, his own or Dick's, he looks unsure as to how to proceed upon looking back.

Dick holds a hand out to beckon him closer and Bruce joins him again, kneeling on the side of the bed and leaning down to resume their kiss. Threading his hands in Bruce's hair, Dick gives him several tugs and pulls to get him closer, encouraging him to climb over top him. While initially he's a little awkward and unsure, he melts into something more relaxed with enough kissing and touching. Dick breaks their kiss to have a look over him.

He still has the same scars from the first time they met- and the ones from that day are still healing it looks. Some of them obviously have gotten re-opened between then and now but none of them look too bad. Bruce is bruised pretty heavily, though. Dick doesn't think he's ever not. He's a handsome guy. Dick caresses one of his pecs.

"Anything you want, you just have to say so," he assures. Bruce kisses him again and Dick arches up to meet him. Hands roam him, a little different without clothes between them, and Dick shudders. In a similar manner, Bruce traces his scars and bruises, too. They're different but that goes without saying. Dick gets his from clients who pay too much to get off on hurting him, from clients who can't take 'no' for an answer, from Mask when he's angry sometimes.

Bruce gets his protecting people.

"Here, like this, Bruce," Dick murmurs. He moves his hands to Bruce's hips and gives him some direction, tugging him down between his thighs to slot them together. Bruce is on the large side but Dick makes do. He strokes Bruce's cock again and laid on his stomach like it is, Dick can definitely see how big it actually is fully erect. He's been with some big people, Gotham is full of them, but it's still impressive

Dick should probably make sure he can actually take that before he offers so offhandedly.

He takes both their cocks in, well, both of his hands and earns a low, guttural noise from Bruce. Dick rocks up against him, his own eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. He will admit, he always prefers clients that follow his lead; he's the pro here, he knows what he's doing. Bruce kisses him hard and deep, his hands pressed into the bed on either side of Dick's head to support himself while Dick does all the work.

Which, judging by the powerful thrust Bruce gives, is probably for the best. Dick nearly loses his grip, Bruce rocks him up so much. Holy shit Bruce is a strong dude. Dick groans louder than he means to and pinches his knees around Bruce's thighs. Out of everything, Dick supposed what catches him most off guard is Bruce is big and strong and _skilled_ but he's gentle as an old dog. With Dick, anyways.

Dick's seen Batman brutally take people down before.

"What do you like?" Bruce asks between lips and Dick can't help but laugh.

"Depends on the person," he answers which is true to a degree. Different people are good at very different things. What he actually likes, he keeps to himself for obvious reasons. "With you," he purrs, rutting his hips up to rub their cocks together more. "Mm, gotta say I'm _really_ liking this, babe." Bruce exhales choppily and he nods.

"Me too," he agrees. Another rock forward and Dick bites his lip.

" _Fuck Bruce_ ," he groans. "I can see where your reputation comes from." Bruce moves away from kissing his mouth to kiss his neck then his collar, his breathing heavy and laboured and his cock twitching. Dick lolls his head aside to make room for him to kiss. He wonders if he'll have more hickies later.

"Dick," Bruce groans against his hot, damp skin. He really does just like saying Dick's name.

"Bruce," Dick replies, arching up into him. "Come for me." Bruce makes a low, guttural sound and Dick moves his hands to Bruce's shoulders as Bruce bucks against him again. "Oh fuck, yeah that's it." Bruce could take him for a _ride_. Dick's breath catches a bit as Bruce thrusts against him with a few more shallow, rough movements before coming. His cock pulses as he stripes Dick's stomach with, sure enough, a sizable load.

Dick bites his lip as he strokes Bruce's cock through his orgasm slowly. With a few rocks up, he finds his own orgasm as well. He catches his breath and Bruce dips down to find his lips once more. Kissing is definitely high up on the list of things he likes. Dick reaches to wrap an arm around his chest and give him a tug, urging him down to lay beside him on the bed now. True to 'Batman' fashion, he's far from breathless.

"Good?" Dick asks, tucking them together.

"Good," Bruce says. Tentative at first, his hands brush Dick's hip and when he isn't deterred, more boldly roam his body. Dick closes his eyes as Bruce explores him, no clothes to hold him back this time. He's gentle; it's nice.

If not odd.

“Anything else?” Dick asks, resting a hand over Bruce’s as it roams. Bruce kisses him again and again, easy and relaxed.

“No,” he says. “Not tonight.” Dick laughs. Always with the ‘next time’ with him. He’s not sure if Bruce is assuring him that he’ll be back or himself. Regardless, Dick is fine with riding this out until Bruce gets bored or fed up or whatever.

“When I get off the ship tomorrow, I have to go with Deathstroke,” he murmurs. Bruce’s hand tightens briefly around his hip but doesn’t squeeze. “If it comes up, Slade’s just a bodyguard, okay?”

“I’ll be close behind,” Bruce assures. Dick shakes his head.

“No, you need to wait,” he says. “Like I said, Slade is smart. As much as I appreciate it, this is definitely not important enough to potentially out yourself to him or anyone else. I promise, I’ll be fine.” Bruce makes a quiet, obviously unconvinced ‘hm’. His concern is well warranted, sure, but Dick’s made it this far without Batman and he sure as hell isn’t going to die without his help now. Slade wouldn’t let that happen, anyways.

"Sionis drugged Waylon?"

"What?" Dick replies sleepily. It comes so completely out of left field, he's not sure what it's about or why.

"You said you drugged Waylon for Sionis," Bruce says. Dick peers an eye open to look at Bruce unsurely.

"Bruce-" he murmurs.

"Why would Sionis drug Waylon to attack his own men?" he asks.

"That was all nonsense, Bruce," Dick assures him. "It didn't actually mean anything. I was making a point."

"Taking Waylon out of the picture takes out a large part of Catwoman's heavy arsenal," Bruce says. Dick opens his eyes to look at him a little more. "Getting Ivy to take the blame-"

" _Could_ cause problems between her, Catwoman, and Harley," Dick murmurs. "It _won't_ but- Roman doesn't know that." Bruce presses his lips together.

What the hell is going on?

X

Dick zones out most of the day. Bruce is too busy with his ‘product testing’ to really pay him any mind and Dick is too busy not paying attention to that to really know what’s going on. It looks like a lot of Bruce standing around answering the same question posed six different ways while the brains behind the operation set up severely unlikely scenarios to prove the efficiency and quality of their product.

Seeing as Dick isn’t an investor and would never be able to afford Wayne Enterprises products anyways, this isn’t particularly interesting to him. He spends most of the morning staring at Slade from across the deck. Of course he’s here for this; this could potentially be useful for him. As if Slade needs anything else ‘useful’ in his arsenal.

Dick glances out toward the distant city line, coming closer into view slowly but surely. They were never out of Gotham’s sight but he can’t help but feel much better knowing they’re on their way back to port. His brothers are fine but the sooner Dick has his feet back on solid land, the better.

Even if it is with Slade.

“Grayson, right?” Fox says and Dick blinks out of his haze to look at him curiously. He smiles and Fox smiles back.

“Dick is fine,” he assures. Fox offers his hand and Dick shakes it politely.

“I don’t believe we were properly introduced; I’m Lucius Fox. CEO of Wayne Enterprises and head of the research and development team,” he says. Dick feels like he should know that name better but who the fuck actually knows CEOs’ names?

“It’s nice to meet you,” Dick replies and he goes back to pretending to watch Bruce do whatever it is he’s doing.

“You are a _very_ bright young man," Fox compliments. "I apologize if my team got a little ahead of themselves last night. We didn't mean to scare you off. In fact, we'd love to have you in the lab sometime."

"I'll have to think about it," Dick assures. That's absolutely not happening. "And it was nothing your team did, don't worry. I just got a little overwhelmed. I'm not used to events quite like this."

"Understandable," Fox assures. "At any rate, at some time in the near future, even if it's not in the lab, I'd like to discuss the applications of your 'fabric' from last night." Yeah, sure, applications like throwing them directly into the garbage. Dick's not sure why he ever opens his fucking mouth when he's not paid to. When he said people liked him because he was smart, this is definitely not what he meant. He's smart enough to fool other rich people into thinking he's something special; not a literal fucking genius and his team of inventors.

"Dick?" Fox asks inquisitively. Dick looks at him again.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm a little distracted," he admits. "Do you mind if we talk about this later?" If he's lucky, there won't be a later and if he's not, at the very least he can play very, very stupid.

"Certainly," Fox agrees with a little amused chuckle. He pats Dick's shoulder. "Perhaps something for your sea sickness would help next time."

"Hopefully," Dick replies. He's never getting on a boat with Bruce again. Fox leaves him be, fortunately, and Dick can return to not paying attention to anything happening on the deck. He looks towards Gotham again and crosses his arms with a pressed expression. It's going to be a long day, he knows it already.

"We'll be docking soon," Slade says, suddenly directly behind him. Dick gives him a mild look out the corner of his eye. "Want me to grab your bags?"

"I don't need them," he replies fleetingly. "There's still a closing lunch for the event. I need to finish my job, Slade."

"I didn't say when the 'event' was over, I said when we docked," Slade assures. Dick makes an unhappy noise. "Face it, you don't want to be here. You didn't even make it through last night's dinner."

"Will you shove it already?" Dick scoffs. "I get it; you don't like sharing."

"Wayne came to me," Slade says. Dick glares at him, a silent warning to watch what he says next. "He offered me a lot of money to drop my contract."

"But you don't fail jobs," Dick says mildly. "Does that make you feel satisfied, Slade? Have you filled that hole in your chest yet? Or are you still biding your time until you've chased away _everyone_ you love?" Slade grabs his arm and Dick turns more fully to look at him with sheer defiance.

"There's people watching me, Slade," Dick reminds him. "Don't manhandle me. I'll make this whole thing far more work then it could be."

"You're the one who asked me not to make a scene," Slade reminds him. "So which is it?"

"We're in Gotham's range, now," Dick says nonchalantly. "You know about Wayne Enterprises' deal with vigilantes. If Bruce offered you a pretty penny to ask you to stop, what do you think he'll offer the _leaguers_ on his _bankroll_ to forcibly stop you?" Slade releases him and Dick brushes out the wrinkles in his sleeve left behind with a huff. He straightens his shirt as Slade smirks at him.

"There was a reason you were my favorite," he says. "Good to know you haven't changed."

"Get away from me," Dick says. "I'll meet you on the deck when we dock."

"Anytime you want to be free from Black Mask, all you have to do is pick up the sword again," Slade assures. Dick glares at him as he walks off again. He looks at Bruce, having sharply been watching them in case he needed to intervene. Though his expression doesn't change much, lots of people are watching him at the moment, Dick sees the silent question. Dick shakes his head.

He can deal with this on his own.

Dick heads for their cabin to grab some of his things. The rest Bruce will take back to the manor with everything else; not that his 'things' are anything more than some fancy clothes Bruce bought him and a handful of hygiene products. He closes and locks the door behind him before digging through his suitcase to the very back and prying open the hidden compartment there.

He's not a killer. Slade may have trained him to defend himself but the application of that was _never_ Dick's intention to kill, or even critically injure, anyone. Not even Black Mask. Dick checks his taser, making sure it's loaded, charged, and functional. He pockets it and pushes everything in his suitcase back to where it was.

It's simple; he's going back home to his brothers. Not even Slade 'Deathstroke' Wilson could stop him from that.

X

This part Dick is used to; quiet car rides with rich people to private places. Slade doesn't have a lot to say, doesn't actually say anything, so neither does Dick. He stares out the window and Slade stares at him. Slade's already made it clear he's not going to say who he's doing this bounty for so Dick doesn't bother trying to get it out of him.

Once upon a time, Slade's powerful presence and intense look excited something in Dick; now it only provokes him. There's nothing he can do to hurt Slade but verbally attack him. Dick knows exactly where to cut. The only thing this really accomplishes is making Dick feel like the bad guy, though. It's not really worth it so they sit in silence.

The mansion they arrive at his familiar. That being said, most of them are. As with most of Gotham’s elite, they house on the same nice hill overlooking Gotham as Bruce's manor, does. Dick could walk there if he really wanted to.

This is Tim's old house.

This is Arkham's place.

Dick knew Slade was in this for something other than money but Arkham? Jeremiah fucking Arkham? Head of Arkham Asylum, the fucking crooked 'criminal mental hospital' funded by Bruce Wayne? Whatever Slade is trying to fucking say, he needs to say it with his fucking _mouth_ before Dick hits him in it. He gives Slade the nastiest look the entire ride up the hill; one Slade, obviously, doesn't react to.

They continue to say nothing as Slade helps Dick out of the car, some bizarre mock of how Bruce does, and guide him to the door. The only reason Dick has had anything to do with Arkham in the past was because Black Mask 'asked' him to and Dick knows the kind of bad things that happen when someone tells him no. Even Mask was only in it for information. Information that Dick found and relayed back as soon as possible, quickly ending any need for him to keep taking Arkham's business.

Arkham doesn't want to kill him; Arkham will torture him.

"You did find him, look at that," Arkham says as Slade nearly drags Dick into the study. He walks around his desk towards Dick but Slade stops him- hard. He puts a firm hand on Arkham's chest, making him let out a small 'oof' at the sheer stopping force of it.

"Payment first," Slade says. Arkham gives him a mild look, not pleased at being kept from Dick, but returns to his desk to do so. Slade stands by and Dick remains quiet and passive near him. He's absolutely fuming inside.

"There," Arkham says. "As promised." Slade checks his phone and once he's sure the money is where it should be, he backs away behind Dick. Arkham smiles at him. "There you are, Richard. I missed you. Welcome home."

Dick shoves everything off his desk in one violent swoop. Arkham reels back in surprise.

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Jeremiah!" Dick barks at him. "You sent fucking _Deathstroke_ after me? What do you think's stopping Black Mask from taking your literal head over this?"

"Relax, Richard," Arkham persuades. Dick grabs him by the collar with both hands. "Richard-"

"You really think sending Deathstroke to hunt me down was going to earn my favour?" he snaps. He smacks the syringe out of Arkham's hand without even thinking about it, shattering the vial against the floor and leaving Arkham looking nervous. "I told you to stay away from me for a reason, Arkham!"

"A little help?" Arkham says, trying to flag Slade down behind him.

"My contract's been fulfilled, Arkham," Slade assures, almost a hint of amusement in his tone as he crosses his arms. "I'm afraid I'm booked up for the next several weeks." Arkham sneers.

" _Richard_ , if you'd just listen to me-" he demands. Dick tases him. A few times, in fact, until he's unconscious. Listen to Arkham, yeah right. Dick lets him go, leaving his body to collapse over into the floor, and points his taser at Slade who is far from intimidated.

"Don't you _ever_ take a job from Arkham on me again," he snaps. " _That_ is an IOU I'm cashing in right now." Slade sarcastically puts a hand on his chest and gives a little bow.

"As you wish, sweetheart," he says. He follows as Dick storms out of the room. Dick pushing over a vase in the hall as he walks by just out of sheer spite. He's so beyond angry. Coming back to the entryway, however, he stops and turns back to Slade with a glower. Slade would never hand him over to anyone, let alone someone like Arkham. Even now, none of this makes any sense.

"Why," Dick demands.

"Someone else cashed in a favour, too," Slade says. "This just happened to be a useful way of going about it. Two birds; one stone."

"Who," Dick says. Slade laughs.

"You should get away from Sionis and Wayne," he warns. "Something big is happening and you don't want to be close to either of them when it does. Don't expect Batman to be any help to someone like you, either."

"What's going on, Slade?" Dick demands. Still, Slade doesn't give him a direct answer or really, any answer at all.

"Do yourself a favor and take care of yourself and your brothers, Dick," he says instead.

"And you still think the best way to do that is through you, don't you?" Dick scoffs. Slade doesn't say anything for a few seconds, staring Dick down only half as much as Dick glares back at him.

"Yes," he finally says. "I do. I could keep you safe."

"Say it," Dick demands. Slade doesn't. "Have you said it to your kids?" No answer. Dick shakes his head. He walks towards the door, pauses, then turns back.

"I loved you, Slade," he says. "I really did. I think you loved me, too, but you couldn't let yourself have that so you did what you always do and you sabotaged yourself. What happened between us is no one's fault but your own."

And still, Slade remains as silent and stoic as ever. Dick thinks he's seen Slade flinch all of once; when he hit Jason. But maybe that's just what Dick hoped to see.

"Tell your kids you love them, Slade," Dick says and he leaves.

X

Dick walks to the Wayne manor. They're on the same hill, maybe, but they're separated by so much land it takes Dick a while to actually make the trip on foot. He rings the gate and Alfred lets him in, of course, though he seems perplexed when he meets Dick at the door.

"Good morning, Master Grayson," Alfred greets him. "I assumed you'd be with Master Bruce this morning."

"Me too," Dick replies sarcastically. "Had a little change of plans."

"Did you- walk here?" Alfred asks.

"Not as far as you'd think," Dick murmurs. "Can I get some water?"

"Certainly," Alfred says. Dick follows him into the kitchen and immediately plops himself down on a barstool before dropping his head into his arms. There was reason behind this but he still has no idea what it was. To light a fire under Arkham? Under Bruce? Sionis?

Dick.

More importantly, who was Slade repaying a favour to? If this wasn't about the bounty, wasn't about Dick, then what did it accomplish for Slade's 'client'? Alfred sets a glass down beside him and Dick sits up again with a sigh.

"Is something wrong, Master Grayson?" he asks. "You look absolutely harrowed."

"It's been a long day," Dick murmurs. He fishes his phone out of his pocket to at least let Bruce know he's okay and safe.

DG > At the manor. DS's contract is fulfilled and he won't be bothering me again for a while.

"Aren't they always?" Alfred replies knowingly. Dick sets his head back down as Alfred turns away and begins working on something or other. What would Slade have done if Dick wasn't involved in this?

What would he have done if Dick went along with his ulterior demands?

"Do you want tea?" Damian asks. Fucking christ that kid is quiet. Dick peers out from his arm at Damian now standing beside him. He sits up and ruffles his hair in his hands.

"Yeah, okay," Dick murmurs. "I should wait until your dad gets home, anyways." He needs to explain what happened and more important, what Bruce is going to do about it. Arkham did place a bounty on him, after all, but Dick is sure Bruce knows about a hundred other worse things Arkham has done and he's still leading Arkham Asylum.

He watches as Alfred helps Damian make a pot of tea and set up a serving tray for it.

BW < He was just a distraction.

Slade doesn't know Batman's real identity, Dick is sure of that, but that doesn't necessarily mean whoever hired him doesn't. If someone asked him to distract Bruce Wayne, therefore distracting Batman, Slade wouldn't ask any questions. Bruce is a very rich man with plenty of enemies; any number of people would want any number of things done to him.

Dick works his teeth in his mouth, trying not to grind them. Who would Slade owe a favour to and also know Bruce's identity as Batman? What was he distracting Bruce from?

For the time being, all Dick can do is wait. Whatever Bruce is doing now, he's not going to tell Dick anything over texts. Instead, he and Damian sit in the study to have some tea.

"Did your brother like that book?" Damian asks. Dick laughs a little.

"He hasn't put it down," he promises. Damian gives a mute, pleased little smile behind his cup. "He has to have read it at least twice now."

"It can be compelling," Damian assures. Admittedly, Dick is a little out of it; has been since he first saw Slade again. He's just glad his anger diminished during his walk over here. That's not something he wants Damian to see again. Still, Damian clearly notices something is off, too.

"Did father do something to upset you?" he asks.

"No, robin," Dick murmurs with a soft sigh. "Not this time, at least. I'm just- thinking about some things. Sorry." Damian gives him a bemused look before going back to sipping his tea.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks quietly. Mainly what exactly he's gotten himself into with Bruce. Whatever is going on, if it weren't for Dick having done his good deed of a lifetime, he wouldn't be involved in this mess or Batman. No good deed goes unpunished, right?

"Riddle me this-" Dick says, then pauses. "Actually, don't. I didn't think my puns were that annoying until I had to talk to Riddler in a private setting." Damian looks perplexed.

"Nevermind," Dick murmurs with a wave of the hand. "I was just thinking what someone like Catwoman would get out of gang war with Black Mask."

"His stuff?" Damian says as if that should be obvious. "Black Mask has a large net worth not including his number of unregistered, highly valued 'collectors' items."

"If Catwoman wanted any of that, she'd just take it," Dick says.

"Perhaps she wants _all_ of it?" Damian suggests.

"Like I said, she'd just _take_ it, not put countless people in danger by going at Sionis head on," Dick murmurs. "If Catwoman wants something, she gets it. Even if it's _all_ of something."

"Perhaps it is not Catwoman orchestrating it, then," Damian offers.

"Maybe," Dick says. "The henchmen Ivy and Harley are using may not be from her personal stash but they reek of her involvement."

"Harley Quinn aims to earn much more out of Black Mask being dead," Damian says. "Gaining control of his territory could put her back in the Joker's favour."

"No," Dick huffs with a laugh. "If this was about Joker, neither Ivy or Catwoman would be going along with it. Harley's smart but she's not that conniving."

"Poison Ivy, then?" Damian says. "The only reason she needs to want Black Mask dead is him being a misogynist, cooperate pig. Perhaps he stepped on one of her flowers?"

"Ivy is a solo player. If this was personal, she wouldn't be so involved with Harley and Catwoman," Dick assures.

"An unnamed fourth party?" Damian suggests.

"Maybe," Dick murmurs. "Maybe Batman's just getting in the way."

"In their way of hurting people?" Damian asks blandly. "That is sort of his thing."

"In the way of their own idea of justice," Dick says. 'Two birds; one stone.' Distract Batman and put the spotlight on Arkham, forcing someone to do something about it whether it's Bruce or Black Mask. All three of them have good reason to want Arkham dead or, at the very least, locked up. Whether it's as punishment or for his own 'safety', they probably don't care.

"Dick," Bruce says. Dick looks back at him before setting his teacup down and coming to meet him at the door of the den. "Are you alright?" He asks but Dick is unharmed and Bruce has new bruises on his neck and a rather long, but shallow scratch on his face. Dick touches it pointedly.

" _I'm_ fine. What happened to you?" he asks.

"Catwoman," he says.

"Attacked you?" Dick asks.

"Tried to kidnap Lucius," Bruce explains. Had he taken off after Dick, he wouldn't have been there to help Fox. Slade was counting on a lot of things to go right and fortunately, Dick just barely convinced Bruce to out maneuver him. Supposedly. Maybe he was expecting this too and Fox wasn't the main goal. They'll find out soon.

"Then attacked you," Dick says.

"Then attacked me," Bruce agrees.

"What did she want with Lucius Fox?" Dick asks.

"I don't know," Bruce says. "Assumedly his mind but for what, I don't know and neither does he. She wasn't very forthcoming with information."

"Same henchmen as Ivy and Harley?" Dick confirms. Bruce nods. At the very least, that's some confirmation that they're working together or under the same person. Unless a new 'rent a henchman' has cropped up recently or something. But Dick is pretty sure he would have heard about that.

"I should have gone with you," Damian says matter of factly.

"Not right now, Damian," Bruce says curtly. Dick gives him a mild look at the brush off. "We can talk about this later. Where's Deathstroke?"

"By now? Gone, probably," Dick promises. "His client was Arkham but like you said, he was just using that as a distraction for his real employer."

"Jeremiah Arkham?" Bruce asks but he doesn't sound wholly surprised.

"That would be him," Dick murmurs. "He, uh, he's not a very nice guy, Bruce."

"No," Bruce says. "Ever since his accident a few years back, he's been different. I'll deal with it." As much as Dick wants to ask how, he's not sure he wants to know or if Bruce would even tell him. He looks Bruce over again, touching his face gently and sighing. Bruce takes his hand.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asks.

"Yeah," Dick assures. "Yeah, I'm fine. I know I'm supposed to be here for the day but do you mind if I go home? You look like you're going to be working the rest of the day anyways and I'd like to go check on my brothers with Deathstroke being around."

"Of course, Dick," Bruce agrees. "Do you want me to send someone with you?"

"No, I think I have it under control," Dick says with a laugh. "Thanks, though." He hesitates a moment before pulling Bruce down enough to give him a soft, gentle kiss. "Deathstroke aside, it was kind of nice. Thanks for hiring me along." Bruce laughs.

"Anytime," he promises.

X

"You're home early," Jason greets him. "Wayne piss you off again?" Dick sets the pan of food Alfred has sent him home with on the counter and immediately, Jason pops up to see what he has.

"Slade paid the cruise ship a little visit, actually," Dick says mildly. Jason stops to give him an alarmed look. "I'm fine. Still pissed, but fine. Where's Tim?"

"Sleeping," Jason says. It's nearly one in the afternoon. "I took 'im to the library to research his little ass off. We were there until they closed."

"Took him or dropped him off?" Dick asks as Jason gladly digs into some of the food.

"Relax, I was never more than like five feet away from 'im," he promises. "And we didn't see that bastard at all. What the fuck did he want, anyways?"

"Language," Dick says. Jason rolls his eyes. "I still don't know exactly. He took me in for a bounty."

"Someone put a bounty on you again?" he asks mildly.

"Jeremiah Arkham," Dick says. Jason nearly spits out a mouthful of food, looking at him even more alarmed than before. "Yeah, it's been a long day. Tim! There's food! Make sure you stay close to Tim. I don't know if Slade is still hanging around and I don't know what's going on with Mask."

"Doesn't he usually act weird?" he scoffs back.

"It's not that," Dick murmurs. "We might be looking at someone starting an all out war with him." Jason swallows a little thicker than necessary. Tim pads out of the room tiredly and they stop that discussion. Dick swats Jason's hands out of the pan and actually makes them each a plate of food instead. They chow down happily.

"Tim," Dick says. Tim blearily looks up at him. "Do me a favour, please? Keep me up to date on anything you hear about Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, or Catwoman."

"Mkay," Tim agrees. "I can do that."

Dick gives him a pat on the head.


	4. Hallways

The slam of the front door awakens Dick immediately. He sits up a little, lifting his sleep mask to have a look around, and blinks against the darkness of their room. Tim is curled up beside him but Jason's nowhere to be seen. It's not usual for Jason to wander off on his own, even in the dead of night. Dick tries not to stop him. Him having to watch over Tim so often isn't fair, to either of them honestly, but with Dick working as often as he does and Tim as small and prone to trouble as he is, they can't help it. Jason never complains but Dick always feels bad.

Jason's seventeen. He should be allowed to be out doing his own thing but life hasn't been kind to any of them thus far. Dick does his best to make up for that.

" _Shit_ -" Jason's coming home, it seems, not sneaking out. Dick adjusts carefully, making to get out of bed without rousing Tim. "Fuck, _fuck_."

Jason's voice sounds strained and choppy and Dick moves quicker. Is he hurt again? He's been getting in a lot more fights recently. He hurries out of the room to see what the issue is and needless to say, he's not happy about it. Flicking a light on confirms his fear; Jason's _covered_ in blood.

" _Jason_!" Dick blurts out, urgently rushing to his side and grabbing him before he collapses. He gets him down to the floor gently and immediately scrambles to find out where he's hurt. There's a large, dark red spot on his side and Dick yanks his shirt away to see the oozing, angry wound there. Dick's heart nearly stops.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Jason murmurs, pushing his hand down on it. Dick pushes his hands away in order to apply proper pressure to it with both hands and trying to stop the bleeding. Jason flinches under him.

"How the fuck did you get _shot_ , Jason?" he demands.

"Language," Jason replies. He's pale in the face already. There's blood all over him and all over the entryway- who's to say how much he's actually lost already.

" _Jason Peter Todd_ ," Dick snaps at him.

"Okay, okay, not the time for jokes," Jason says, slouching more as he tries to catch his breath but wincing with every one. "Can we do the punishment thing later and deal with the gunshot thing now maybe?"

"Tim! First aid kit now!" Dick calls. He's not weaseling his way out of this but if Dick wants an opportunity to be mad at him later, he needs to survive now. "Shit, we need to get you to a hospital."

"No!" Jason snaps, flinching at the pain that jolts through him at the sudden movement. He hisses through his teeth and arches against the floor in blind pain. " _Fuck_! Not- not a hospital."

"Now isn't the time to be against hospitals, Jason," Dick says irritably. Tim fumbles out of the bedroom in a tired, confused rush with their first aid kit in his hands. He nearly trips bringing it to Dick and crashes down onto his knees beside him. Seeing all the blood alarms him, clearly, and he stares wide eyed at Dick for further instruction.

"Hold. _Hard_ ," Dick says and Tim hastily puts his hands over the gunshot wound when Dick takes his away. He digs through the kit swiftly to find the bandages and Tim works with him to get the wound wrapped for the time being and hopefully prevent him from bleeding out much more. Jason arches weakly to the extent that he can as Dick wraps the bandages around his torso.

"It's not- it's not that. They know I got shot, they'll be lookin' fer me in hospitals," Jason rasps.

"Who _shot_ you, _Jason_?" Dick demands again.

" _Later_ ," Jason hisses back.

"Sionis-" Dick begins.

"You'll be in debt to him for _life_ if you take me to him," Jason insists. "Someone- there has to be someone else." Is he fucking kidding? Is he expecting Dick to take him to a vet? Maybe a fucking back alley surgery van? Jason's going to be the fucking death of him, he swears. Dick carefully lifts him up and Jason wraps an arm around his neck to try to help support himself. He's big but fortunately, not particularly heavy, especially when he's missing _most_ of his blood.

"Tim, grab the emergency bag," Dick instructs. Tim nods hastily, bolting off to grab their bag and quickly returning with it. "Grab a sweater while I call a car."

Dick carries Jason back out to the street and Tim hurriedly follows along shortly after. Jason's breathing heavy but he's still breathing and that's what matters right now. Tim peers at him anxiously as they wait in the dark for the cab to come around. When it eventually does, the driver looks more annoyed than concerned at the sheer amount of blood. Dick shoves him some money and tells him the location to which he makes far less complaints about.

"Jason," Dick says firmly, getting his drowsy attention again. Jason blearily looks up at him. "Stay awake, little wing. We'll be at the Wayne manor soon, okay? I need you to tell me right now what happened, do you understand? Don't you lie to me." Jason winces and he instinctively holds a hand over the bandages he's slowly but surely bleeding through. Fortunately, it looks like it is slowing now. He's lucky there's no exit wound.

" _Okay_ ," Jason stresses out between his teeth. "I- I've been harassin' False Facers, okay? That's where I've been gettin' bruises 'n shit. Some lucky fuck caught me by surprise. Wasn't aimin' for me or nuthin'!"

"Jason! You could have died!" Dick snaps at him. He knew Jason went out looking for trouble but he never expected anything this bad. He thought Jason was smarter than that.

"But I didn't?" Jason barks back. Dick's never wanted to strangle him more. They need to have a long, serious talk about this but now obviously isn't the time.

"Do they know what you look like?" he demands.

"No, I've been careful," Jason promises. "I swear, they shouldn't know anything." He's right, they couldn't have taken him to the hospital or Mask's doctor. Dick clutches Jason tightly, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart, and gives him a stressed kiss on the temple. If this isn't a nightmare scenario he doesn't know what is.

"Jesus fucking christ, Jason," he murmurs. This is, honestly, the last thing they need right now. No one _should_ know but whether or not they do is a different story. With everything else happening, Dick isn't looking forward to what this could mean in the future. For now, though, they just need to get Jason fixed.

Dick buzzes the gate and the cab driver takes them up the driveway. Jason's absolutely exhausted, understandably, and his grip is much looser now than it was earlier. Dick hurries to the front doors and Tim is right on his heels, clutching their bag in his bloody hands and shaking with anxiety. Alfred is there to greet them, of course, and seeing the three of them covered in blood briefly startles him.

"Oh dear," he murmurs.

"Alfred," Dick says and his voice shakes more than he thought it would. "I'm so sorry, Alfred, I didn't know where else to go."

"Come in, quickly now," Alfred urges without hesitation. Dick carries Jason inside and Tim is nearly glued to his hip. He's already so worried, being in a new place like this without warning isn't doing him any favours. "This way."

Alfred leads them on a hasty trip into the manor and urges Dick to set Jason in the beds of one of the many rooms. Dick carefully lays him down and Jason lets out the slightest of relieved sighs at being able to lie flat again. It looks like he's stopped bleeding for now but that's only one problem of many. Dick strips him of his blood soaked jacket and shirt. He's so bruised and scarred up. How did Dick let this go so far without knowing?

"I'll wake Master Bruce and call the doctor at once," Alfred alerts, already briskly walking off again. Dick looks the bandages on Jason's side over again and runs a stressed hand through his hair. The blood that clings to his fingers and leave fingerprints on everything he touches makes him even more worried. Jason closes his eyes and Dick quickly touches him to keep him awake.

"Don't sleep, little wing," Dick says, brushing some of the hair out of his face. "There's a doctor coming, just hold on."

"Not gonna lie, this hurts way more than I thought it would," Jason murmurs.

"Dick?" Bruce says. Tim jumps when he enters the room, quickly bolting to stand on the other side of Dick as far from Bruce as he can. Dick gently puts a hand on his shoulder to calm him. "What happened?"

"It was an accident," Dick assures him quickly. He can't exactly tell Bruce Jason got himself shot trying to start fights with Mask's men. "This- this is Jason, my younger brother. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Bruce comes closer, moving around the other side of the bed as to not crowd Tim, and quickly taking a peek at Jason. With a doctor on the way, he doesn't touch or move anything, though. Jason scoffs a quiet, annoyed noise when Bruce gets too close but he's too exhausted to make any comment about it right now.

"Leslie's coming," Bruce confirms. "He looks stable for now. Where did you get shot?"

"You have eyes, don't you?" Jason snaps back shortly. Not _that_ exhausted, unfortunately. Dick gives him a scolding look. Now isn't the time for his dislike of rich people or Dick's clients, either.

"Where were you in the _city_ when you got shot?" Bruce clarifies, alarmingly patient. Jason sneers unhappily.

"What's'it to you?" he replies.

" _Jason Todd_ ," Dick bites at him. "You are bleeding from a gunshot wound in Bruce's house, in one of his beds, waiting for the doctor he called for you because I couldn't take you to a _hospital_. Answer his questions. And _nicely_."

"Just answers are enough," Bruce assures swiftly. "I just want to help, Jason." Still, Jason can't help the nasty look on his face.

"Caraway," Jason finally answers. "By the ship loading dock."

"What were you-" Dick begins angrily before stopping himself and taking a breath. "Nevermind. We'll talk about this when you're not _bleeding_."

"Master Grayson," Alfred says. "Would you and your brother care to wash off?" Dick looks down at Tim, clinging to their bag and stuck to his side, then to Jason, pale in the face and still out of breath. All three of them are just soaked in blood. Jason lost so much of it.

"I'll be fine," Jason scoffs. "You don't need to babysit me." _He's been shot_. Dick gives him a dirty look and Jason shrinks back a little. Ultimately, though, he just sighs and looks to Bruce with a little nod. He gently ushers Tim to come along so they can follow Alfred.

"I know you probably don't like me much with current circumstances, but I just want to help," Bruce assures again.

"Yeah, yeah, you're not like other clients, I get it," Jason replies mildly.

Dick has the worst headache of his life.

"May I take those?" Alfred asks. Dick blinks, looking at the ball of Jason's bloody clothes in his arms before gingerly handing them over. Then he looks down at Tim who immediately shrinks away at the attention. "Apologies, what was your name?"

"Tim," Dick says. "This is my little brother, Tim. Tim, this is Alfred." Alfred smiles at him.

"Master Tim-" he says.

" _Just_ Tim," Dick says quickly. " _Please_."

"Tim," Alfred says and he gestures to the door of the bathroom. "Would you like help drawing a bath?" Tim shakes his head. "Very well. Master Grayson, if you'd like to follow me to the master bath."

"I'm going to stay with Tim, actually," Dick assures. "No need to bloody up two of your bathrooms." And there's no way he's about to leave Tim to his own devices right now- for both of their sakes. Tim's about two steps away from a full fledged anxiety attack.

"Very kind of you," Alfred says. "Very well. Do let me know if you need anything else."

"I will. Thank you so much, Alfred," Dick murmurs. "I swear, I'll get you one of those bottles of Brandy you like soon." Alfred chuckles a little. He walks off again to deal with the bloody clothes he has and Dick ushers Tim into the bathroom and closes the door behind them. He takes the bag from Tim's death clutch and almost immediately, Tim collapses to the ground on his knees. Dick comes to crouch beside him, gingerly petting his head to let him know he's nearby and safe.

"You're okay, Jason's okay," Dick promises. "Calm down, red robin."

"You're gonna owe Bruce for this, aren't you?" Tim asks quietly.

"It doesn't matter," Dick replies, stroking his cheek. "As long as you and Jason are safe, it doesn't matter." He pulls Tim closer to him to hug him and Tim clings to him tightly. "Go ahead and take a shower, okay? Get that blood off you. We'll have to sleep here for tonight."

Hesitantly, Tim nods. Dick turns the shower on as Tim strips from his bloody clothes. He follows suit, taking them and dipping them in the sink to begin scrubbing out some of the stains before they get too bad. Unfortunately, it might be the end of these clothes. Tim yelps quietly behind him and Dick whips around at once. Startled, Tim gives him a surprised look before it turns into something more sheepish.

"I didn't expect the water to be warm," he admits quietly. Dick laughs.

"Enjoy it, okay?" he murmurs. Tim nods and makes a second attempt at hopping in. This time, he's less shocked. Dick rinses himself off in the sink in the meantime, staring at all the blood that runs down the sink from his cleaning effort. It's Bruce; of course Jason will be fine.

God, he can't believe Jason got _shot_.

Dick rinses and hangs the wet clothes over the side of the sink for the time being. He scrubs his hands over his eyes and sighs. When Tim gets out, Dick takes a quick rinse just to make sure there's no lingering blood on him before drying off. He pulls their new clothes out from the bag and they redress hastily before leaving the bathroom. Still, Tim sticks to his side and eventually just grabs a hold of the back of his shirt to make sure he's not out of arm's reach. Dick settles a hand on his back to calm him.

He guides them back to the room Jason's in but the door's closed now and Bruce waits outside of it. Dick swallows nervously but Bruce just gives him a little smile.

"The doctor's here," he assures. "She's good, I promise. She said he'll be fine but he's going to need a lot of rest." Dick doesn't see that fucking happening. Jason can't sit still to save his life.

Quite literally apparently.

"Is she-?" Dick asks, looking past him. "Can I-?"

"She's working," Bruce says. He gently ushers them away from the room and Dick tries not to dig his heels in. "Come on. Would you like something to eat?" As much as he doesn't like being kept from his brother, Dick knows Jason needs the help and the doctor needs space to work. He just hopes Jason is cooperating.

"Did he tell you anything?" Dick asks. Bruce gives a quiet, scoff of a laugh.

"I don't think he likes me very much," he replies. No, that's not surprising. Bruce is one of Dick's clients, and an extremely wealthy one at that, neither of his brothers are going to like him much. Despite Tim's initial awe at finding out Bruce was one of Dick's new clients, meeting him in person obviously is far different. He keeps his distance as much as he can without parting from Dick's side.

"Don't take it too personally," Dick assures. "He doesn't like a lot of people." He encourages Tim to sit beside him at the kitchen table which he quietly does. Bruce sits across from them, offering Tim as much space as he needs.

It's late and Tim's probably tired but definitely too high strung over everything that's happened to sleep right now. Once he's sure Jason is alright, maybe. Beyond that, Dick just hopes he crashes somewhere comfortable. Moving him after he falls asleep somewhere almost always guarantees at least another hour of him being awake again.

"Perhaps this will help some nerves," Alfred offers and he sets a mug of warm milk in front of each of them. Oh. Dick doesn't want this. He looks to Tim, who surely would rather have a cup of coffee almost always, but Tim is currently locked in an awkward staring competition with Bruce. Oh for the love of-

"Bruce," Dick says shortly, a bit more forceful than he really meant to come off as. Tim winces away instinctively and Bruce finally realises his staring is far from welcomed. He looks at Dick for a moment, then briefly back to Tim before trying to adjust his position to make his large form slightly less intimidating. It doesn't work great.

"Sorry," he says before anything else. "You're Jack and Janet Drake's son." Tim actually flinches like he's been hit. There's a reason Dick doesn't let his clients anywhere near his brothers. In fact, there are usually many, many reasons. This is becoming a good list of most of them. "Did you not inherit anything from them?"

"Everything, actually," Dick assures. "He's fourteen. If he ever sees any of it, it won't be for a long time." This, by far, is not a conversation he wants to have everet alone with Tim in the room. Telling Bruce that outright after everything he's done so far seems in bad taste, though.

Something Bruce obviously doesn't feel for asking questions about Tim's dead parents.

"He should have been emancipated," Bruce comments. "Why-"

" _Should_ have, maybe," Dick cuts him off irritably. "Wasn't. Your guess is as good as mine." Fortunately, Bruce understands fairly quickly he's treading into territory he shouldn't be in. Perhaps a little late now but better than never. He clears his throat.

"Well," he says. "If you'd even like help with that-"

"Bruce, listen, I know you mean well but stop," Dick finally says. "Tim doesn't _want_ anything from his parents, okay? Not their money, not their business, and definitely not their name. All they did was neglect him. He didn't need them then and he doesn't need them now."

"Dick and Jason are my family," Tim finally speaks up. "And they're the only family I've had. Whatever the Drakes left behind was for their son- not me." Bruce opens his mouth briefly to say something but ultimately, doesn't. He nods, slowly, putting his hand over his mouth as his gaze drifts off. Dick pets Tim's head softly.

"Come on, robin," he says quietly. "Let's go sit in the den." Maybe the fireplace will put him to sleep.

Bruce doesn't follow, leaving Dick to get comfortable with Tim on the couch in the nice, quiet room. They're so far away from everyone and everything, the only sounds are the crackling of the fire and the occasional creak of the old house. While Dick is used to this, it only makes Tim more anxious. Eventually, though, he does fall asleep sheerly from exhaustion if nothing else. Dick manages to slip out from under him without waking him again.

He'll try to be back before Tim wakes back up but he needs to check on Jason before he can get any amount of sleep today. Even then, he doubts he'll be able to get much let alone any that's restful. As he heads back down the manor halls, he sees Bruce disappear into Jason's room just a little ahead of him. He quickens his steps to catch up but stops outside the door to listen when he hears Bruce speak.

"Where are you going?" he asks, not accusatory but rather in that flat, monotone he wears when he's being serious. The 'Batman Voice', Dick refers to it in his head.

" _Jesus fuckin' christ_ ," Jason hisses back. "What the fuck, dude? Ever heard of knockin'?" A brief silence passes and Dick hears the bed creak. He fidgets unsurely, hand naturally moving to his pocket in case something here isn't as it should be. Bruce hasn't given Dick any red flags and he is Batman but- he _is_ Batman.

"Leslie just left," Bruce says. "She'll be back in the morning for you. For now, you should try to get some rest."

"I don't know what she's comin' back for," Jason scoffs back. "She's already patched me up. I'm good as new."

"She just wants to make sure you're going to heal well. We don't want you getting an infection and she'll probably want to do some scans to make sure nothing else was damaged in the process," Bruce explains.

"Sounds like a lot of shit I don't need that you wanna charge Dick for," Jason replies mildly. "Pass."

"I'm not looking to you or Dick to repay me for this," Bruce assures. "I just want to make sure you get better." That, at least, Dick knows is true. Bruce won't asked to be repaid though Dick still hopes that doesn't mean Bruce is going to try to hold it over his head later. Right now, he isn't sure if Bruce would.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, John," Jason answers, obviously not even having the patience to give Bruce the benefit of the doubt. Bruce doesn't say anything. "Can you go now?"

"You should be sleeping," Bruce says.

"Yeah, I'm tryin' here," he says irritably.

"No," Bruce says. "You should be sedated. I don't know how you're still awake right now. Are you in pain?"

"She gave me somethin' light," Jason mumbles. "What- why d'ya even care? Will you just leave me alone already? Don't you have some weird sex stuff to subject my brother to or somethin'?" Dick lets out a silent sigh. He can never make anything easy, can he?

"There's nothing at Caraway, Jason," Bruce says.

"How would you know?" Jason snorts back.

"I sent someone to check," Bruce says. Jason goes eerily silent. "What's so important out there that you're trying to go back there half sedated and riddled with blood loss?"

" _None ya_ ," Jason snaps at him. "I wasn't tryin' to leave, jesus christ. What's your fuckin' problem?"

"If you let me, I _can_ help," Bruce promises. "But you have to tell me the truth."

"Who says I want your help?" Jason barks. "All you're doin' is puttin' Dick in danger and makin' our life a whole of a hell of a lot more difficult. You think shovin' money at 'im's helpin' anythin'? All you're doin' is stressin' him out." Dick frowns.

"Things are complicated right now. There's a lot of nuances to what's going on and a limit to how much I can help Dick without hurting other people," Bruce says. "I'm trying to do more but it's going to take time. For now, helping you helps him the most."

"We don't need your help," Jason sneers at him. "Didn't need anyone else before, don't need anyone now."

"Fine," Bruce says. "Whatever it is, I hope it's important enough to risk your life for. You made it out the first time, there's no guarantee you will again, Jason. I hope you know what your brothers are going to do without you."

"Bit of a low blow there, ain't it?" Jason says coldly. "'ight, _fine_ , Mr. Do No Wrong Billionaire, you want to know what stupid thing I did that I need to go back there for? I dropped somethin'. 'n before you ask, no, you can't just 'buy a new one'."

"What did you drop?" Bruce asks. Jason is quiet for a moment. "Jason-"

"Dick's necklace, okay?" he says and suddenly he's talking a lot faster. "I- it got snagged when I was tryin' to get away. I wear it under my body suit, I swear, but it must have gotten loose in the fight and the chain snapped. I have to go get it before he knows. He'll be so fuckin' angry."

Oh Jason.

"Calm down," Bruce says softly. "I don't think Dick is going to be mad. I'm sure he'd prefer you were safe than trying to go back out and get it in the condition you're in."

"You don't know Dick very well," Jason snorts back. "That was his mother's and he gave it to me for safekeepin' and I _lost_ it. He's gonna kill me himself if he finds out."

Did Dick love that necklace? Of course. Does he love it more than Jason? _Absolutely not, Jason Todd._

"Okay," Bruce says. "What does it look like?"

"Why? What are you gonna do? Hire a swat team to go get it?" Jason scoffs irritably. "No, wait, let me guess, you really _are_ Batman and you're gonna drop all your nightly duties to go get some sex worker's only prized possession. I'm swoonin' already. You think Dick's gonna see you as anythin' more than a client if you earn Tim and my's favour or somethin'?"

"Jason," Bruce murmurs. "If anything happened to my mother's pearls, a gunshot wound wouldn't stop me, either. I just want to help." Another lapse of silence. Perhaps Jason really had forgotten Gotham's favorite billionaire playboy is an orphan, too. Perhaps he just didn't realise how close to home this is for Bruce.

Perhaps Dick didn't, either.

"What do you want, then?" he finally asks. "I ain't got anythin' valuable. I can't do anythin' special."

"I don't want anything, Jason," Bruce promises again.

"Bullshit," Jason spits. "You're either gonna take it from me or take it from Dick 'n he's already doin' enough for you."

"What's in your pocket?" Bruce asks. Jason hesitates.

"What? What are you-?" he begins.

"If you're so insistent on paying me for this, give me what's in your pocket," Bruce says. Another pause then a quiet rustling. "Cigarettes? What else?"

"I can't believe I'm gettin' shook down by fuckin' Bruce Wayne," Jason scoffs.

"Fake ID?" Bruce murmurs. "Where did you get this?"

"It's not fake," Jason assures mildly. "It's just- not mine- exactly. Fakes are expensive 'n Mask runs most of 'em. Hey, wait a minute-"

"Payment," Bruce says. Jason makes a disgruntled noise. "Anything else?"

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? _No_ , nothin' else," he scoffs.

"What about your knife?" Bruce asks.

"Knife? I don't _have_ a knife," Jason says. Dick rolls his eyes.

"Where is it? Did you drop that, too?" Bruce asks.

"I've _never_ had a knife," Jason assures, lying through his teeth like a champ. Bruce 'hm's in disbelief.

"The necklace," he says again. "What's it look like?"

"It, uh, it's the medallions mainly. The chain is- it was just somethin' I found to make sure I didn't lose them. One's a round piece, gold, kind of, uh, worn, I guess. Looks kinda of like it used to have somethin' embossed on it but it's worn away now. Like, an owl maybe or, uh, some kind of bird? And the other's a coin from his mom's home. Tied together with a ragged little ribbon," Jason murmurs. "Fuck, I can't believe I lost it. _Fuck_."

"It's okay," Bruce promises. "Just try to get some sleep, okay? I'll let you know if it turns up."

" _Don't tell Dick_ ," Jason stresses out. " _Please_."

"I won't," Bruce assures. "Do you hurt?"

"No," Jason mumbles. "No, it's- it's nothin', I'm fine."

"If you can't sleep, let Alfred know. He'll give you something to help," Bruce promises.

"Okay," Jason says quietly. "I- thanks, I guess."

Dick remains by the door as Bruce comes back out and quietly closes the door behind him. They walk a few feet down the hall in silence. He still doesn't know why Jason was out there in the first place but that was, unsurprisingly, a pretty big deal for Jason to open up to someone like that- let alone someone like Bruce. Sure, it required some serious crowbarring but Bruce still managed somehow.

"How much of that did you hear?" Bruce asks once he's sure they're out of hearing range.

"All of it," Dick says.

"He seems pretty upset about it," Bruce murmurs. "I understand why."

"It's just a necklace," Dick says with a nonchalant shrug. "To be honest with you, I've pawned it more than once. It _is_ one of the last things I have left from my old life but-"

"You've had to make a lot of difficult choices," Bruce assures. He puts a hand on Dick's back and Dick sighs deeply. "You've cut yourself off from a lot of things, Dick. I'm sorry." He hugs him and Dick hugs back tightly.

"Thank you for that," Dick murmurs. "He never would have told me and I don't want him going back out there and getting hurt again over some piece of jewelry. Or worse."

"It's important to him," Bruce says. "And it's important to you. I'm going to go look for it. Damian tracked down the group that shot him, anyways. I'm going to make sure they don't do this again."

Maybe they won't, but there's so many more people in this city that could. It seems like a wasted effort but, Dick supposes, Batman's job always seems like a wasted effort. Yet, he still does it; night after night. Dick laughs. Kind of like himself, isn't it?

"Okay," he agrees. "Thank you. I know you said you weren't looking for payment but if there's anything I can do for all of this, let me know, okay?" Bruce pulls him in for a gentle kiss.

"Can I ask you to stay a few nights?" he asks. Dick grins.

"I dunno, Bruce," he murmurs back, reaching up to cup his face. "That's asking a lot."

"Please?" Bruce murmurs. "You can sleep in the master bedroom."

"The master bedroom, huh?" Dick says teasingly. "Where are you going to sleep?" Bruce laughs. "Tell you what, come back in one piece and we'll see."

"Consider it done," Bruce assures. He smiles minutely as they part and Dick watches him head down the hall before looking back towards Jason's room. While he knows Jason doesn't really think Dick cares more about that necklace than he does Jason himself, it still concerns him. Was he really going to try to go back out there like this?

Bruce is right in a way; Dick gave up caring about a lot of things in order to make sure his brothers didn't have to.

He leaves Jason to sleep, hopefully, and quietly returns to the den with Tim. A blanket has been draped over him and when Dick sits beside him again, he moves to nuzzle himself into Dick's side.

"Is Jason okay?" Tim asks softly.

"Yeah, he'll be okay," Dick promises. "As ornery as always and a little sore but he's doing okay." Tim gives a little nod. "Go back to sleep, robin. You need the rest."

"Do I have to go to school tomorrow?" he asks. Dick laughs.

"No," he promises. "I think they'll understand." Tim settles in and shockingly, ends up going right back to sleep. Dick nods off now and again, but never for long. The couch is comfortable but he's too worried about too many things to get any solid sleep. Bruce may be out handling one problem but he knows for a fact this won't deter Jason in the future.

As soon as he's well enough and as soon as he thinks he can get away with it again, he's going to be right back out there doing what got him shot.

Dick is more concerned that Jason still isn't telling him the whole truth.

Waking sometime in the early morning hours, Dick sees Damian standing in the doorway. He yawns quietly and Tim makes a quiet, sleepy noise of complaint when he moves too much but doesn't really awaken. It's been a long night and they're both exhausted.

"Hey, Damian," Dick murmurs. "You can come sit with us if you want. Are you alright?" He's not sure if Bruce let him come with but he let him scout out ahead which is something. They seem to be getting along a little better.

Damian doesn't reply, instead making a stubborn 'hm' noise and sticking his nose in the air before trotting off again. Dick isn't sure what that's about but for the time being, it's not something he wants to pursue. He goes back to sleep.

X

The smell of food is what eventually rouses both of them. Tim gets up instinctively to eat while Dick almost panics himself awake assuming it's Jason trying to cook with his injury. Upon remembering where they are, however, he relaxes again. It does smell good.

Food is by far way more enticing than Tim's anxiety for where they are and who they're with. He follows the smell to the kitchen and Dick isn't far behind. It's already pretty late in the morning but it seems this isn't that unusual for them. With Bruce's sleep habits, he'd not surprised. Alfred's busy cooking already and he gives them a smile when they come in.

"Good morning Master Grayson, good morning Tim," he greets. Tim mumbles something incomprehensible in return and Dick laughs.

"Good morning, Alfred," Dick returns. "Can I help?"

"If you'd like," Alfred agrees. Dick nods.

"Go wash up," he instructs Tim. "And see if Jason needs help with anything for me, please."

"Mkay," Tim replies lazily. He rubs his eyes as he wanders off to the room Jason is in. Dick turns back to see what Alfred is working on and easily works his extra set of hands into the equation to help. This is quite a bit of food and Dick is as glad to help as Alfred seems to be to feed them.

"Is Bruce still sleeping?" Dick asks.

"Still?" Alfred laughs. "I'm not sure if he's _been_ to sleep yet."

"Was he out all night?" he asks with a frown.

"He usually is," Alfred replies. "Don't worry, if he was, I assure you it had nothing to do with you or your brothers. He can keep himself busy out in that city for hours." Dick sighs and shakes his head.

"He's going to wind up dead from exhaustion before anything else," he murmurs.

"Oh, I've warned him," Alfred assures. "If you have any more luck than I have convincing him of it, I'll kiss you myself."

"Those aren't cheap, Alfred," Dick warns jokingly. "But for you, I think I can swing a bit of a discount." They both laugh.

"Good morning, Dick," Bruce grumbles as he joins the fray. "Alfred."

"Seems Master Bruce is alive after all," Alfred says. Dick grins. "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Bruce," Dick hums. "How was your night?" Bruce comes up behind him and Dick tilts his head to the side to let him lean against his back and kiss his cheek. He holds his hand out over what Dick is doing and displays the pair of charms, tied together with a little cloth ribbon, and the broken chain they're on.

"This is it, I'm hoping," he says.

"Yeah," Dick assures softly. "Yeah, that's it. I'm glad you found it, Bruce. Thank you so much."

"I'm glad I could help," Bruce says. "I cleared out some False Facers in the area while I was at it. It might agitate Black Mask but it needed to be done." Dick pats his arm a little.

"I know," he replies. "It'll be okay."

"Dick," Bruce says gently. "Jason is-"

"Hey! Ow! Get off me!" And that would be Tim. Dick drops everything he's doing in an instant, pushing Bruce away from him with a shoulder and bolting off towards Tim's voice. Bruce follows at a brisk pace behind him.

There's no way Roman could have found them here. There's no way False Facers could get into the manor let alone without someone knowing about it. They couldn't have-

"Damian Wayne!" Dick shouts. He physically grabs Damian by the back of his shirt and pulls him off of Tim. Once grabbed, Damian stops fighting but he makes an irritated noise and flails a bit with a snarl posted across his face. Tim is obviously worse for the wear, his face bruised and a bit of blood on his mouth, but Damian hasn't gotten out of this fight untouched. His eye is red and swollen as well and it looks like they took out most of the furniture in the hallway.

"Damian," Bruce says firmly. "What is the meaning of this? What do you think you're doing?" Tim scrambles to his feet and wipes some blood off his mouth as he hastily puts distance between them.

"What the hell, Tim?" Dick bites. "What did you do?"

"He started it," Damian insists angrily. Dick puts him down but Bruce grabs his shoulder firmly before Damian can go back to fighting again. Tim turns away with an annoyed huff.

"Damian," Bruce warns.

"What did I tell you about instigating fights?" Dick snaps. "We're literally in my client's home, _Timothy_."

"Dick, I don't think-" Bruce says.

"He was annoying me," Tim says sourly. "I told him to leave me alone. _He_ threw the first punch."

"What did you say, Damian?" Bruce asks. Damian sticks his nose in the air defiantly and Tim scoffs just as sour. Dick pinches the bridge of his nose. He steadies his heart with a few slow breaths before exhaling deeply and looking between them.

"I don't care what happened," he says firmly. "You both need to apologise. Right now." Sure enough, neither of them do. Not that Dick really expected them to. He shakes his head with another deep sigh.

"You sure fight like an al Ghul," Tim murmurs rubbing his jaw. Both Damian and Bruce look the slightest bit startled at this- a fete in and of itself. Jason and Tim might have learned their anger issues from Dick but Tim definitely learned how to be a fucking brat from Jason.

"Jason's room," Dick demands, pointing down the hall. "Now." Tim stalks off with a huff. Dick turns on Damian next who's smug expression quickly turns more reserved under the attention. "Room, now."

"You can't tell me what to do," Damian replies shortly, squaring his shoulders up in a defense of his pride. Dick gives him a dirty look that immediately makes him shrink back again.

"Go to your room, Damian," Bruce repeats. Damian looks between them with a look somewhere between disbelief and betrayal. He rightens himself and walks off with his arms crossed like he can pretend he's doing this of his own free will.

"I'm sorry about him," Bruce says. "He's- not great with people yet, let alone other kids."

"It's only half his fault," Dick promises with a slight wave. "Trust me, Tim is a natural instigator. He might not have started it but he definitely helped fuel it, I can assure you of that."

"Whether or not that's true, Damian shouldn't be getting in fights with other kids like that- especially physically. He could really hurt someone," Bruce says. Dick isn't going to take light the fact that Damian is a trained assassin and has only gone on to train with Batman, but Tim isn't as helpless as he seems.

He did land a solid blow on Damian, after all.

"I already have a headache," Dick murmurs, rubbing the inside corner of one of his eyes with a thumb. "What were you saying in the kitchen, sorry."

"I should go give this to Jason," Bruce says, holding the trinket up again.

"Right," Dick sighs. "Thank you again, Bruce. I'm going to go help Alfred finish cooking." Bruce nods and they go their separate ways. Dick knows Tim doesn't start fights for no reason, of course, but he also knows this was likely a misunderstanding. Damian is too blunt and crass to have not unintentionally said something to piss Tim off enough to goad him on. This doesn't lend well to them getting along later.

Dick helps Alfred finish up and Bruce eventually wanders back to sit at the table, browsing the morning newspaper as he has a cup of coffee. That's not going to help him get a nap in, that's for sure. It's nice though and Dick isn't nearly as worried about his brothers being here as he thought he would be. Granted, they did come here under the worst possible scenario. It's hard to see a downhill from there.

As nice as he knows Bruce is, or tries to be at least, seeing him be so nice to Jason and Tim is- sobering in a way, honestly. It's too soon to really say for sure if Dick can trust this 'niceness' but it's a change of pace they really could use.

"Breakfast!" Dick calls. "Come eat!" He begins plating the food and Alfred pours some drinks as they gather around the table. Damian slinks in quietly, still looking ruffled and his red eye darkening to something more blue. He sits beside Bruce and suspiciously watches everyone else. Tim, looking about the same, follows in closely behind Jason who limps along half hunched over himself.

"Jason, you know full well I didn't mean you," Dick scoffs at him. Jason plops down at the table and Tim climbs into a seat close beside him.

"Well, you shoulda specified that when ya called," Jason retorts. Dick gives him an annoyed look but there's nothing to do about it now; he's already here, he might we well eat. If he pops his stitches, Dick is going to throttle him. He helps Alfred move the serving dishes over to the table.

"Tim, Damian," Dick says, looking at each of them from where they sit as far away from each other as possible. "Neither of you are leaving this table until you apologise to each other." Damian makes an even louder, dismissive 'hmp' which, sure enough, only makes Tim less than interested in going first.

"Shit, I'm not the one in trouble for once?" Jason murmurs. "I can't believe it."

"Jason, you are by far the person in the _most_ trouble here," Dick assures, helping him fill his plate so he doesn't have to reach for anything. Bruce and Damian help themselves but Tim hesitates. He looks at Dick questioningly and Dick gestures to him that it's fine. This isn't even that big of a meal but it's still a lot more than they're used to. Tim awkwardly picks at a few platters to fill his plate.

"I'm seriously in trouble for gettin' shot?" Jason asks.

"You're in trouble for what _got_ you shot, Jason Todd," Dick replies shortly. "I definitely haven't forgotten." Jason scrunches his nose up dramatically.

"Worth a shot," he murmurs before beginning to dig in. Alfred only joins them once everyone has a full plate of food and is contently eating.

Dick looks at Tim pointedly. Regardless of who started it, they are in his client's home; a client who called a personal doctor in the middle of the night to help Jason. It might not be fair, but Tim knows the kind of situation they're in. Tim keeps his eyes on his plate. Jason scarfs down food between them and Dick sighs.

"Jason," he says quietly. "Manners please?" Jason swallows what's in his mouth.

"Oh. Sorry. This is really fuckin' good, Alfred, thank you," he says. Jason _wants_ to give him a stress ulcer, Dick swears. Bruce smiles subtly behind his cup.

"Thanks Alfred," Tim adds on quietly.

"You're quite welcome," Alfred replies pleasantly.

"Should we be surprised the escort's family is about as well mannered as circus animals?" Damian comments under his breath. Bruce honestly looks like he's had almost enough of Damian's attitude as Dick's had with his brothers'.

"Oh shit, your gremlin talks?" Jason asks. _Jesus fucking christ_. Dick can't believe they're about to get banned from Bruce Wayne's house. Wait, no, he can believe that. Damian glares at Jason sourly but Jason is far from affected by it.

"Jason," Dick says sharply. "Damian's the one that lent you that book?"

"Cool," Jason says and Damian briefly fixes himself again. "Why'd you hit my brother in the mouth?" And there it goes. Damian shoves away from the table suddenly but before he can go anywhere, Bruce grabs him by the back of his shirt.

"I didn't hear you apologise," Bruce says. "You can't leave yet."

"I am sure that's what Master Dick said, yes," Alfred agrees. Damian looks purely offended at the idea that he actually has to _listen_ to Dick. There's a moment where it looks like he's planning an escape route before Bruce gives him a warning look that makes him sit back down, unhappily crossing his arms. Everyone else goes back to eating in the meantime.

Once everyone's finished, Alfred begins collecting plates and Dick moves to help him. He seems more than happy to have some help.

"The doctor should be here soon," Bruce informs. "Can I help you back to the bedroom, Jason?"

"Nah, I got it," Jason assures as he hobbles back to his feet. He limps back towards the door and pauses to catch his breath on the frame. Bruce gets up to follow behind him. "I don't need help, 'ight?"

"I'm not helping," Bruce replies matter-of-factly. "But if Leslie catches you roaming the halls by yourself in your condition, we're both going to get an earful."

"Smart man," Jason begrudgingly mumbles. "Touch me and I bite."

"Noted," Bruce assures. They wander off leaving Tim and Damian sat at the table, staring at each other across the way. Dick sighs, passing off the plates he's holding to Alfred before coming to sit between them. They look away from one another with equally annoyed sounds.

"Alright let's start from the beginning," Dick says. "What happened?"

"He wouldn't leave me alone," Tim scoffs again.

"Damian," Dick says. "If someone asks you to leave them alone, regardless of what you're doing, you should leave them alone. Everyone has a right to their own comfort and personal space." Damian 'tt's loudly.

"That being said," Dick goes on, looking back to Tim. "You know better than to start fights over that."

"He cornered me in the hallway," Tim insists. "He was being nasty."

"Cornered you in a straight hallway?" Damian retorts blandly. He doesn't really think Dick is buying that, does he? He and Tim are about the same size and Damian is far more aggressive.

"Can we just apologise and get on with our day?" Dick encourages. Neither of them want to talk about it, clearly, and making them sit here isn't exactly going to get any information out of them but at the very least they need some kind of conflict resolution even if it's half assed.

Neither of them budge.

"Alright," Dick sighs. "You're not going to school today and you don't have school so I guess we can just spend all day here." That ruffles some feathers.

"I'm sorry," Tim says, less than sincere and as quick as possible. He gives Damian a mild look, waiting for him to return the empty gesture so they can at least leave and Damian scowls unhappily.

"Fine," he snaps. "I apologise. Can we go now?"

"You may," Dick agrees. "Get into a physical altercation with each other again and all three of us are going to sit outside and do yoga until you talk." They both make unhappy faces before hastily scurrying off in different directions. Alfred looks back to make sure there both gone before chuckling.

"That was impressive," he says. Dick huffs an amused sound as he gets up to help Alfred finish washing the dishes. "I assure you, getting Damian to cooperate in any situation is an impressive fete. As much as it may seem, Bruce certainly has no control over him."

"You can't control kids," Dick snorts back. "He just needs more patience than Bruce is giving him."

"And a therapist," Alfred says.

"I'm not saying that would hurt, no," Dick agrees.

X

It's kind of nice having his brothers here, Dick will admit to that. None of them have ever had their own room and honestly, he thinks Jason and Tim are enjoying a bit of peace and quiet. They get along better than they want to admit sometimes and they've been at this long enough that they know how to work with each other even when they don't want to, but being able to sleep in separate rooms is a nice change of pace, too.

Dick does take Bruce up on his offer to sleep in the master bedroom though, _with_ him of course. After all this time, he's not sure he'd be able to get much sleep sleeping alone. Which, as it turns out, is true not only for him.

He hears the door creak open and Dick is far too vigilant to sleep through that. Sitting up a little, he squints into the dark.

"Dick?" Tim says softly. Dick carefully but quickly gets out of bed, doing his best not to wake Bruce, and comes to his brother's side.

"Tim? What's wrong?" he asks quietly.

"Nothing," Tim assures. "I can't sleep. It's too big and quite." And reminds him of the Drake estate, Dick's sure. He frowns as he pets Tim's head and quickly glances back to make sure Bruce is still asleep.

"I'm sorry Tim," he murmurs. "Go lay with Jason, okay? I- I'm with a client right now, robin."

"It's alright, Dick," Bruce says suddenly. In hindsight, no, Dick shouldn't have assumed Bruce could sleep through that anymore than he could. He winces a bit as Bruce begins to sit up and Tim hastily ducks behind him just in case. "He can sleep in here. I know how difficult it can be getting use to sleeping here alone."

"Bruce," Dick says unsurely.

"I'll go sleep in one of the guest rooms," he assures. That's- not what Dick was expecting, he'll say that.

"No, Bruce, this is your room," Dick insists. "I'll just go sleep in Tim's." Bruce chuckles tiredly, already having donned his robe.

"Trust me," he says. "You're going to want to be in here." He passes by without allowing anymore argument and Dick watches him suspiciously. It's late, though, and honestly he doubts Bruce was going to sleep through the night, anyways. He probably has Batman stuff to get to in the early hours. Dick climbs back into bed and ushers Tim to join him. The master bed is big and soft and it's far too easy for them both to fall back asleep again.

For a while at least.

Dick hears the door creak open again not much later and this time, it's followed by a little, tired wheeze.

"Jason?" Dick mumbles tiredly. Tim puffs a groggy sounds beside him.

"If I pretend to be lookin' for Tim can we pretend I definitely wasn't havin' nightmares in this place?" Jason asks weakly. Dick sighs in quiet amusement.

"Of course," he agrees. "Come here." Jason limps over to the bed, checks to make sure Bruce isn't actually in it, then gradually climbs in and huffs a pained noise as he gets comfortable.

They all sleep a little easier.

X

Finally everything has calmed down to some degree. Tim and Jason are hanging out in the den, Damian has been keeping out of sight all day, Bruce is busy with his business, and even Alfred is off relaxing for the time being. It's been a long twenty four hours for everyone and the peace and quiet is well deserved.

Dick's going to have a nice bath in the master tub.

Which he's just in the middle of doing when his phone rings, obviously. Dick almost debates not answering it but the last thing he needs right now is to somehow make Roman even more angry than he probably already is. Who knows the extent of what Jason's been doing to harass his people and then on top of that, Batman swoops in to pick off several meaty handfuls of his men? He should be absolutely _furious_ right now.

There's no way this is going to be a good conversation.

"This is Grayson."

"Where the fuck are you?" Roman snaps at him immediately. Dick makes a displeased face. Sounds like someone has gotten more pleasant since the last time they talked.

"With a client," he replies mildly. "Wayne. Again. What's the problem now?" Roman actively encourages him to spend as much time with Bruce as he wants; he hasn't yet figured out that Dick isn't going to be getting any intel for him here and the money is constant and good. He couldn't possibly be mad over this.

"How long?" he demands. This isn't good.

"He's paying by the hour," Dick lies. "Roman, what-"

"Get down here now," Roman barks. Yeah, that makes Dick want to do things. Always has.

"And tell Wayne what?" he says, trying not to sound as aggravated as Roman makes him.

"Do I sound like I give a fuck?" he snaps. Dick rolls his eyes as he starts climbing out of his nice warm bath again.

"Alright, alright. I'm on my way," he assures. Roman hangs up before he can ask anymore questions. At least he didn't mention his brothers so they're probably not the ones in trouble. Beyond that, Dick really couldn't say what this is about. There's a distinct difference between Roman being mad at him and Roman just being mad and fortunately, it sounded like the later.

Dick dries off and dresses in a hurry.

"Going somewhere?" Bruce asks. Dick turns to look at him as he enters the room and sighs quietly. Honestly, Bruce always seems to know the perfect time to catch him; not that Dick was going to leave without letting him know.

"Roman called me down," he explains.

"For what?" Bruce asks more forcibly. His concern is rightful and well warranted.

"I don't know yet," Dick admits. "I'd say he sounds angry but he always sounds like that. Whatever it is, it's important enough to pull me away from a rich client."

"Do you need backup?" Bruce offers. Dick snorts a laugh. Yeah, he'll just show up with his rich client Bruce Wayne tagging behind or, if they really want to whack the hornets nest, drag Batman along. He sees both of those scenarios going well.

"If you want to make things worse, sure," he assures. "I'll be fine. I'm his favourite, remember?"

"Dick, I don't think that's as good of a thing as you make it sound," Bruce says. No, it's really not, but it's not like Dick has much else. If being Roman's favourite and biggest earner keeps Dick off the wrong side of a temper tantrum then so be it. It's kept him out of hot water more than once now.

"I'll let you know what's happening when I can," Dick promises, reaching to give him a peck on the mouth. Bruce frowns.

"If I don't hear from you in an hour, I'm coming to get you," he warns.

"Make it two and you have yourself a date," Dick replies teasingly. Bruce doesn't look amused. "Really, I'll be fine. Just keep an eye on my brothers for me, please." Bruce 'hm's unhappily.

Dick takes a car back to town. Judging by the lot of False Facers loitering around outside Mask's building with their tails between their legs, Roman's in the middle of one of said temper tantrums. Joy. He heads up and Roman's assistant seems to be having a way worse headache than Dick's ever had. She gives him an annoyed stare so Dick goes ahead and just lets himself into the office.

Or what used to be an office. Roman's trashed most of it by now. What, that's four this year? He's really aiming to beat out his own record from last year.

"There you are," Roman snaps at him. Dick makes a sarcastic 'here I am' gesture in return and Roman sits back down behind what's left of his desk. "Deathstroke's in town."

"Yeah, he already paid me a visit," Dick assures.

"And you didn't fucking say anything?" Roman barks.

"I did," Dick answers placidly. "I told you he took a bounty on me for Jeremiah Arkham last week. Interrupted an important function for my top client." Roman angrily rubs his chin but seemingly remembers that conversation. Arkham's in protective custody now; out of sight, out of mind. Roman doesn't have time to deal with him, especially with everything else going on.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Dick asks. It's not like he, personally, can stop Slade. Roman looks back at him and- sneers? Maybe?

"About him? Nothing," he snaps back. "You're going to scope out _his_ client for me."

Okay, this is really bad.

"Who?" Dick asks. Slade's clients are nice people, he can say that without a doubt. Roman searches around his desk briefly before he starts angrily slamming things around again.

"How come my useless ass assistant ain't ever around when I fuckin' need her?" he barks. Said assistant, in the middle of Roman complaining, smacks a file folder into Dick's chest. He takes it and they exchange less than friendly looks. Once she's made herself disappear again, Dick flips through the file.

"Selina Kyle? Haven't heard of her," Dick murmurs. Oh, why does Tim have to be right about so many things. He really is going to get himself in trouble. "What's she doing hiring someone like Deathstroke?"

"That's what you're going to find out for me," Roman assures. "She wants to do business. Gave me a little gift so I'm returnin' the favour." The favour being Dick- pun withstanding. "I don't trust this bitch as far as I can throw her."

"What gift did she give you?" Dick asks suspiciously.

"The _joke_ kind," Roman replies. Dick looks up, arching a brow at him as he pulls his phone out to show him the video feed. Harley Quinn. She definitely doesn't look in a good way but she is still alive. Why wouldn't she be? Roman isn't going to miss out on an opportunity like this even if it reeks of being a trap.

"How did she catch Harley?" Dick murmurs curiously.

"Fancies herself a business woman," Roman says. "Has anywhere between two hundred and three hundred hench workin' out of her front. Maybe more. With Joker's girl actin' out recently, she probably made an easy target of herself."

"Right," Dick says. "And now you're sending me into the lion's mouth with Deathstroke because you think something's fishy?"

"Bingo," Roman agrees. "Do what you do best and maybe in the process, get me some information."

"What about Deathstroke?" Dick asks.

"Don't worry about him," Roman assures. "Word on the street is he's busy breakin' Killer Croc outta Arkham. This bitch has got him wrapped around her finger."

"Deathstroke doesn't 'wrap'," Dick says mildly.

"Did for you, didn't he?" Roman reminds him. "You should be more worried 'bout Red Hood, anyway. Sounds like she's pulled his tab, too. We still ain't know what his deal is but one of my boys tagged him good last night. He _should_ be licking his wounds but with all this meta shit going around, who knows."

No, it couldn't be.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Roman snaps at him.

"Where am I meeting her?" Dick asks dryly.

"Her front. A club downtown," he informs. "And dress nice. She likes 'em stupid and easy." Dick drops the file on Roman's desk before leaving.

Who would be able to call in a favour from Slade Wilson _and_ know Bruce's identity?

Selina Kyle aka _Catwoman_.

Roman's right, this is a trap. Harley Quinn is an escape artist and a hell of a lot better at it than Roman is at keeping people. The only reason she's still around is because they haven't gotten what they wanted yet. Not Dick, no. It couldn't be him.

Right?

_He can't believe Jason is Red fucking Hood._

Dick calls Bruce while he gets back into the car. He gives the driver the business card to Selina's front and asks him to take him by his apartment first. He needs to change his clothes before he goes anywhere else and maybe grab some more of their stuff while he's at it. If Jason's going to need bed rest above all else, hopefully Bruce won't mind too much if they stay at the manor for a few more nights.

"Hey Bruce, it's Dick," he greets. "Like I said, I'm fine. Roman wants me to go meet with a new client to help seal some deal or something."

"Are you going?" Bruce asks like Dick had a say in the matter. When Roman tells him to do something, he jumps. It doesn't matter what it is or why. If Dick doesn't want his life to get very difficult, he does what he's told. Surely Bruce knows that.

"Yeah," Dick assures. "Roman's dramatic. It's not a big deal. Mind if my brothers stay there for the night?"

"Of course not," Bruce assures. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Fine," Dick says. "Not _happy_ but fine. Listen, I need to deal with this. I'll let you know when I'm done."

"Okay," he murmurs. "Let me know if you have a problem."

"I will," Dick promises. "Thank you."

No, he's not telling Bruce he's meeting with Catwoman, he's not a complete moron. If Selina knows Bruce's identity than she knows about him, his connection to Black Mask and Slade, and this is definitely not an accident. What she actually wants from him is probably nothing good, either. If he tells Bruce that, however, he's never going to find out what's going on.

And more importantly, neither will Bruce.

Could he be in danger sheerly from working for Roman? Potentially but Dick doesn't see that as being likely _especially_ if she knows _he_ knows Bruce is Batman.

His life has gotten so complicated so quickly.

Dick changes clothes at his apartment, ignoring the blood stained all over everything, and hops back in the car with an extra bag to be dropped off somewhere else. As much as he knows this information is going straight to Bruce, it's not like Bruce wouldn't find him in record time if he wanted to, anyways. Plus, Dick might actually need help out of this scenario.

With the sun already long gone in Gotham's tall buildings and overcast, the club is already riddled with people and active partying. Dick doesn't so much head inside as a henchman grabs him the second he steps out of the car and escorts him in. This is going to be pleasant, obviously. Dick doesn't fight them, looking more anxious than anything as he's lead through the club and into the back where it's much quieter.

He's pushed into an unoccupied office and told to wait. Which Dick does. Without touching anything, of course, because Catwoman is definitely working with Poison Ivy and Dick isn't interested in anything she's making for anyone. He's also not stupid enough to assume she's not watching him or that he would be able to out thief a master thief.

"Sorry for the wait," Selina purrs as she finally shows. Dick smiles nicely for her.

"It's okay," he assures. "I'm Dick Grayson. It's nice to meet you." He offers his hand to shake and she politely does, looking him over far less politely the entire time. As much as he's used to women who look like they want to eat him, usually that doesn't mean literally. Catwoman is chaotic neutral at best and hard to read at worst.

"I expected you to be older," she comments.

"Is that a problem?" Dick asks. She grins at him.

"Please, have a seat," Selina says, gesturing him to sit. This, obviously, feels more like a business meeting than actual clientele work. He sits in the chair at the front of her desk and she plops down casually on the other side of it. For a long time she doesn't say anything, just curiously investigating him with her eyes, and Dick stays still and relaxed.

"So Bruce Wayne's boyfriend is an escort," she says. "How unexpected. Are you _actually_ his boyfriend or is it all about the money." Dick laughs.

"Does it matter?" he asks. "I'm here for you now." She smiles but it's less than friendly all of a sudden- dangerous and predatory.

"You are," she purrs in agreement. "And here I thought I drew the short end of our bargain." She might know who he is and who Bruce is but she doesn't seem to have figured out Dick knows who she is yet.

"Just tell me what you like and we can get started," Dick encourages in a sultry tone. "It's on the house, after all."

"Ooh, you know what I'd really like?" Selina replies in a low, sensual tone. "For you to tell me where Red Hood is."

Dick's going to kill Jason with his bare hands and it's going to hurt the entire time he's dying.

He blinks at her in confusion and she lifts herself up to lean across her desk at him. Dick instinctively reels back when she reaches to stroke his cheek with pointy nails. Those are weapons and he knows it without needing to be warned. She's not going to growl before she lashes out.

"The vigilante terrorizing Mask? I don't- I don't know?" he murmurs in bemusement. "Last I heard one of Mask's men shot him? Why are you asking me?"

"Because _you_ know him," she says matter-of-factly. "And I'm willing to bet you know where he is."

"I don't, actually," Dick assures. "Know him or where he is. I'm just a sex worker, okay? Mask sent me to show you a good time, not- not whatever this is."

"Relax," she encourages. "I'm on your side."

"And which 'side' would that be?" Dick asks dryly.

"Whatever side you want me to be," Selina assures. That's not a comforting answer and she knows it. She digs her nails into his face and turns him to face her square on. Dick flinches back but she holds him tight.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dick says again. Without warning, she moves. In an action that's pure instinct, Dick kicks away from the desk and out of her reach, rolling backwards out of the chair and sliding back on his feet. Selina lunges at him again and he ducks out of her reach, backing up against a bookcase and leading her to swiping at it. Her nails rip through several book spines like nothing.

Those are going to hurt if she catches him.

She doesn't let up, either, swiping at him again. Dick grabs her wrist hard, stopping her in her tracks and she reacts just as quick, lashing out with the other hand and nearly catching him in the face. He jerks her away from him at once, bolting back to put distance between them. Selina laughs.

" _Just_ a sex worker, hm?" she says. "We can track all of Red Hood's activity back to you, Dick."

Wait, does she think _he's_ Red Hood?

"You know who I am," she says plainly. "You know who _Bruce_ is. You're not going to be able to take Black Mask down on your own." Is she honestly trying to recruit Jason to help them take on Black Mask? What the _hell_ has Jason been doing?

Shit, Grayson, do something quick.

"Maybe- maybe I do know Red Hood," he says. "What then?" Selina grins.

"Then you can bring a message to him," she says. Dick straights back up, staying alert in case she attacks him again, but not flinching away from her when she slowly prowls closer.

"I'm listening," he assures fleetingly.

" _He_ ," she says in a way that makes it perfectly clear she's speaking directly to him. "Wants the same thing we do; to be rid of Black Mask. We all know he's a _blight_ on this city. Together, we have the means to take him down."

And safely, at that. Just removing Roman from power would leave a hole that would only end up feastering with violent infection before too long. Between Catwoman, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn though? They could wrangle his remaining followers and divide up his territory with minimum problems. Replacing one evil with, at best, three slightly less evil parties seems like a winning scenario to Dick.

But he's not sure Bruce sees it the same way.

"But we can't do it without Red Hood," Selina assures, scritching his chin.

"Why not?" Dick asks plainly. She grins.

"We need someone that knows Black Mask inside and out, don't we?" she says. He sees why they're under the impression _he's_ Red Hood. Obviously Dick made a mistake thinking he could trust his brothers with anything.

"I'll make sure he gets the message," Dick says.

"Good," Selina purrs.

Whether or not he's Red Hood, they're looking for _his_ help specifically. Jason knows things, sure, and Tim knows more and hell, at this point, Dick doubts Jason was acting alone, but nothing to the degree that Selina is looking for. She doesn't want someone who knows where his men gather and how to annoy them.

She wants someone who can slip a knife between his ribs.

But Dick's not a killer.

Right?

X

Dick returns to the manor in the middle of the night, exhausted at best. He was right; those claws were a weapon. The marks she left on him are definitely going to stick around for a while. Dick refrains from sitting all the way back just to save himself the discomfort.

As if it's just him returning home, Alfred doesn't greet him this time. Dick doesn't mind. He's too focused on trying not to lose his temper, anyways. So much so that he almost missed Bruce and Tim playing chess in the den when he passes. They don't miss him, though.

"Dick? Are you okay?" Bruce calls after him.

"The client was Catwoman!" Dick replies, almost as sharp as her claws. They hastily follow after him and Dick practically kicks Jason's door in. Jason throws the book he's reading in a panic and gives him a confused blink. Dick yanks the pillow out from under him.

"Hey! Injured here!" Jason barks. Dick hits him with it and Jason quickly covers his head with his arms. "Ay, ay! What the fuck, Dick!"

"You're Red Hood?" Dick yells at him, hitting him with the pillow again. "Are you out of your fucking mind, Jason fucking Todd!"

"I'm not!" Jason says urgently. "Shit, I mean- will you stop! Dammit, Bruce said he wasn't gonna tell!"

"He didn't!" Dick snaps, only fueling his anger. "I found out from fucking _Catwoman_ who wants to recruit you into her fucking _gang war_! But I'm glad you knew Bruce!" He flings the pillow at Bruce who, sure enough, catches it easy enough and frowns.

"I ain't ever fucked with Catwoman!" Jason assures. "I don't know what she wants with me!"

"Dick, calm down," Bruce encourages. Dick would never hit his brothers but he's damn well on his way to popping Bruce in the mouth. "What happened?"

"You're a malnourished seventeen year old who only got his growth spurt last year! What the _hell_ were you thinking! You're not a vigilante!" Dick barks at him.

"I was thinkin' I could actually make a difference!" Jason yells back. "I was thinkin'- I was thinkin' if no one else was gonna help us, then we'd have to help ourselves. Just like always. The GCPD don't help, Deathstroke don't help, shit, fucking Batman don't even help. I just- all this shit you do for us, I just wanted to do _something_ to keep you safe."

"Jason," Dick says, out of breath and angry and, _fuck_ , sad.

"I'm sorry," Jason murmurs quietly. "Don't- aw shit, don't cry, big wing."

"Dick," Bruce says, gently touching his shoulder. Dick shrugs him off roughly.

"Don't touch me," he snaps but it's tired and worn out. "I- fuck, I need to go sit down." He shoves past Bruce and Tim shrinks out of the way a bit as he passes by. He hears Jason let out a shaky sigh but nothing after that.

Everything he does- it's just never enough, is it?

Dick finds a first aid kit in a bathroom and finds an empty room to start cleaning some of his deeper scratch marks and recompose himself. Roman's going to be calling in the morning to see what went down and Dick doesn't know what he's going to be telling him yet let alone what he's going to tell Bruce tonight. After that, he has to figure out what he's going to do about Catwoman and Red Hood and that just brings on another headache.

"It's impressive you got out of a fight with Catwoman with just a few scratches," Damian comments, curiously coming to stand in the doorway. Dick sighs heavily.

"Yeah," he agrees fleetingly. He definitely doesn't have the energy right now to explain these aren't fight scratches to a twelve year old. Damian comes a little closer and Dick looks at him tiredly.

"Are _you_ okay?" he asks. Dick puts his face in his hands briefly before lifting back up again.

"I will be," he promises. Damian climbs up onto the bed beside him. "You want to be a good man one day, right Damian?"

"Of course," Damian answers at once, propping himself up proudly.

"Good," Dick says. "That means doing the right thing, okay? Again and again and again, no matter what. No matter how hard." Damian nods a dutiful, firm nod of understanding. Dick ruffles his hair.

"It's going to hurt the people you care about sometimes," he assures. "But they'll understand. Eventually. Will you do me a favour." Damian nods again. "Breathe with me?"

And surprisingly, Damian does. They spend a solid half hour doing breathing exercises in silence until Dick finally composes himself again and his searing rage simmers down to a soft boil of discomfort and worry.

Now, to figure out what the right thing to do even is.


	5. Islands

Dick isn't surprised to find that Bruce's house not only has a personal gym but a place for him to practice his acrobatics. Batman is a little big to successfully navigate complex maneuvers but his way of moving through the city clearly speaks to him having some aerial training. Dick isn't sure if it was self learned or taught- he's just happy to have somewhere to practice again. He used to visit the gym near their apartment until three women got into a fist fight over him and he found out all three of them had been stalking him.

Needless to say, he doesn't go there anymore.

"You're very talented," Bruce offers once he's had enough of standing around watching silently. Dick replies with a small, dismissive scoff but is otherwise undeterred from his routine. It feels good to stretch again. It hasn't quite simmered his anger down completely yet, but he's getting there. He's clearly already been a bad influence on Jason; he doesn't want that to be the case for Tim and Damian, too.

"Dick," Bruce says gently. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you right away. When I confirmed my suspicions, I figured it was more conducive to earning Jason's trust to talk to him about it first. It wasn't my intention to hide anything from you especially involving your brothers."

"You shouldn't be worried about earning Jason's trust," Dick replies coldly. "You should be worried about keeping mine." As much as he knows Bruce meant well, it rubs him the wrong way. It wasn't up to Bruce to decide what to do with what he found out. Jason isn't his kid.

But, Dick guesses Jason isn't his either.

"I don't think those two things are separate entities," Bruce murmurs. Maybe he's right but that still wasn't his choice to make. Dick drops down from a beam, landing with a soft thud and straightening himself out. He massages his sore palms with his fingers.

"You want to know what Kyle wanted," Dick says.

"That's not the only reason I came to talk to you but yes," Bruce agrees. Damian has made the assumption that Dick got into a fight with Catwoman judging by all his scratches; Batman knows better.

"She's under the impression I'm Red Hood," Dick says. "She needs an inside man to continue with her plan."

"Did she tell you what that plan is?" Bruce asks.

"Not in so many words, no," Dick assures blandly. "From what I can tell, she wants to take out Sionis." He brushes past Bruce and naturally, Bruce follows a few steps behind as they talk. Staying in the manor has been nice but Dick knows they can't stay here forever. Where they're going to go after this, however, he's not sure. They can't go back to their apartment, that's a given.

If Sionis is out of the picture, well, that opens up a lot more opportunities.

"But she can't get close enough without someone on the inside," Bruce confirms. Dick nods. He heads into the bathroom and Bruce lingers in the doorway while he runs the water and starts stripping out of his sweaty clothes. "She won't wait for you forever."

"She might not have to," he murmurs. Bruce looks at him suspiciously for a moment and Dick just turns away to continue undressing.

"We don't know what she's getting out of Sionis being out of the picture," he says. "We don't know anything about why she's doing any of this."

"Honestly, Bruce?" Dick says, giving him a long look before stepping into the warm shower. "I don't know if I care. Catwoman isn't evil. Can really whatever they're getting out of this be any worse than what Roman is doing now?"

"If she's not working for herself, yes," Bruce says firmly. "Like I said-"

"We have no reason to believe she's working for someone else whether willingly or by force," Dick replies dismissively. "Slade made it perfectly clear whatever they're doing, he agrees with. Slade may not be the prime example of morality but if Catwoman and her partners were just pawns for someone else, he would have stayed out of it."

"There are better options than killing Sionis," Bruce urges. "No one has to die."

"I don't care about _better_ , Bruce," Dick assures. "You're a good man and I'm glad for that, I really am, but I'm not you. I don't want 'better', I want to know my brothers can go out into the city and not worry about them coming home with fucking bullet wounds. If killing Sionis accomplishes that, then so be it."

"His death will start a gang war for Gotham," Bruce says sternly.

"Gotham has seen gang wars before," Dick replies. "Catwoman has already proven that she's not only ready for it but that she'll be able to handle it."

"Do you really believe replacing the False Facers with another gang, or several, is going to be any better?" Bruce asks.

"I _believe_ ," Dick replies sourly. "Catwoman is taking direct action against a man who's been a problem to this city for years that other people either _can't_ or are _too afraid_ of doing anything about."

Dick believes in Batman, he really does, even now, but now he knows things about him too. He knows Batman is one man, one _human_ man, alone in a city that he only seems to make enemies in. Maybe Jason always was right though; Batman isn't there to help people like them. He simply doesn't have the time or resources for that.

Batman is a strategist. He has to take down the biggest, meanest people in as few moves as possible with hopefully as little collateral damage as possible.

That's why Dick always beats him at chess.

"What would you have me do?" Bruce finally asks. Dick steps out of the shower. He wraps a towel around his waist and makes eye contact with Bruce damn near the entire time. "You said it yourself. If I make a move on Sionis right now, the fallout on the people under him would be devastating."

Dick stops on Bruce's toes and looks up at him not sad but- disappointed is closer. He exhales softly and looks down at his broad chest.

"You want to know what I want you to do? Let Catwoman carry out her plan," he says.

"You're not a killer, Dick," Bruce replies.

"I wasn't," Dick answers. "Then I met you, Bruce. Then I was attacked by a clown, kidnapped by an ex to be sold to a stalker, and my brother shot in his own city. Stand where I am and tell me, Bruce, what would you see?"

Bruce doesn't say anything. Dick walks around him.

"You're right; I'm not a killer," he says. "But I can weave a rope for the devil to hang himself and still sleep just fine."

x

Dick looks at the doctor's note Leslie has written up for him. She's a nice lady and firm enough that Jason listens to her- as long as she's actually around to enforce it of course- but getting Jason to listen at all is a fete in itself. He's not sure if the school is going to accept this.

Sure, Dick knows it's from a well known private doctor but with their track record, he wouldn't be surprised if they claimed it to be a fake without doing any fact checking first. He's not sure what to do in that situation. Have Leslie call them directly? The more involved this situation gets, the more likely they're going to get found out. It's bad enough that Dick has to take it in and, once again, explain where their parents are.

'Where's your dad today?'

'In the hospital. With Jason.'

This lie gets harder and harder to hold up by the day. The only saving grace they have is that as long as nothing disruptive is happening, they truly _don't_ care. Unfortunately, that means making sure Jason and Tim not only go to school and do their work but that they stay out of trouble _in_ school. Something they've both proven to not be very good at.

And even if they do accept the excuse letter? Who's to say they won't call CPS to check on why Jason _got_ _shot_?

They have back up plans, of course, and back up plans for the back up plans, but Dick doesn't like the idea of actually having to enact any of them. If he could, he'd adopt Jason and Tim in a second. Unfortunately not only does that require him having citizenship but proof that he's a competent parent and that he can provide for them, neither of which he can prove. And even then? There are legal and expense requirements to jump through at every turn.

Getting them emancipated poses an entirely different set of problems and requirements. Not to mention the potential drawbacks of legally being considered adults, especially in Tim's case.

Dick rubs his face in his hands.

"Master Dick," Alfred calls and Dick looks up tiredly at him. "You have a visitor."

He has a what? At Bruce's place? Who- Alfred wouldn't let anyone in that could potentially harm them or _want_ to cause them harm. Who could possibly-

"Hey Dick! Long time no see!"

" _Roy Harper_ ," Dick hisses. He's on his feet at once, approaching Roy much faster than Roy approaches him. "What the _hell_ are you _doing_? I told you to stay out of Gotham."

"Ya, you tell me lots of stuff I don't listen to," Roy assures. Dick gives him a nasty look and he quickly holds his hands up in submission. "It was a joke, relax."

"You shouldn't be here," Dick insists. "If Black Mask catches you, he'll kill you." Not to mention he should know damn well not to come to Dick's client's places.

"I'd like to see him try," Roy scoffs back. He leans in a little closer to talk to him quietly. "You didn't tell me your 'client' helping Waylon was _Deathstroke_ , Dick."

"Because It's not," Dick says sharply. "There's a lot going on right now, Roy. You need to leave before you make things worse."

"Dick, what's going on?" Roy urges. "Your apartment is ransacked and covered in blood, Deathstroke is in town, you look like shit, and you brought your _brothers_ to a client's house? If you need help, just tell me."

"I _don't_ ," Dick snaps back. "Jason got shot. This was the only safe place I could bring him, okay?"

" _Christ_ , Dick," Roy breathes back. "Is he okay? What happened?"

"He's fine," Dick scoffs. "He was trying to be a vigilante, Roy." Roy pulls back a little with a frown. Dick wouldn't be surprised if this is where Jason even got the idea from. He's always liked Roy and once Roy actually started cleaning up his act, Jason started looking up to him a lot. The difference between them is Roy has actual training and a mentor to watch out for him- Jason's just some punk looking to cause trouble.

Roy caught a lucky break that they never did.

"Dick," Roy says softly. "I didn't."

"You better not have," Dick replies. If he found out Roy actually _encouraged_ Jason to do this, Dick will throttle him.

"Dick?" Bruce calls as he enters the room. Dick looks at him quickly then back to Roy. _Shit_. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh shit, you really are workin' for Wayne, eh," Roy says with a grin. Dick might throttle him anyways.

"I'm sorry, Bruce," Dick says, by passing Roy to come closer to him. "I didn't know he was coming here. He's on his way out right now."

"It's okay, Dick," Bruce promises and he huffs a small laugh but it sounds surprisingly wounded. He surely doesn't think Roy and him are a thing, right? "You're welcome to treat this like your home. I don't mind if you have visitors."

"No, really, he's on his way out," Dick repeated pointedly, sending Roy an annoyed stare. He _knows_ better than to come around Dick's client's, especially one's as important as someone like Bruce Wayne. Roy holds his hand out and Bruce takes it politely.

"You must be Bruce. I'm Roy Harper. You know my dad, Oliver Queen?" he introduces himself.

"I do, yes," Bruce agrees. "How is he doing?" Well Dick just absolutely hates this. Bruce obviously knows Oliver is Green Arrow and by extension, his twin sons are Red Arrow and Arsenal, but as far as Dick is aware, none of them even believe Batman is _real_. Most people outside Gotham don't. Hell, most people _in_ Gotham don't.

As Bruce likes it, he's sure.

"Good, good," Roy assures. "Just signed a deal with Star Labs down in Keystone. Not to light a fire under your ass or anything." Bruce laughs.

"Good for him," he says. "When he's good and ready, he'll come and talk to me about a business trade."

"Eh, I doubt that," Roy replies humorously. "He's got a thick skull and pride more inflated than his head." They both laugh and Dick gives Roy the meanest death glare he can manage. From heroin addict to talking business jargon with Bruce's nice guy facade- Dick doesn't even recognise him sometimes.

He's glad Roy got clean and got back in touch with his family, he really is, but how can Dick not be mad that things were so _easy_ for him. Hell, he had a better life than Dick did even before he started doing heroin.

"By all means," Bruce says. "Stay as long as you'd like, Roy. There's plenty of room."

"I will," Roy agrees. "Thanks, Bruce." Oh yeah, Dick's going to throttle him.

"We should talk later," Bruce says to Dick quietly. "About Selina." That sounds like fun. Dick nods and Bruce leaves them to their own devices. Roy grins at him and Dick glares back. Roy frowns.

"What?" he insists. "Bruce and Ollie are- uh, they talk sometimes."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dick snaps back. "What are you even doing here, Roy?"

"I came to make sure you weren't shacking up with fuckin' Deathstroke again, Dick," Roy replies irritably. "He broke Waylon out and I'm not about to let you go and repay him for it."

"If Black Mask so much as _sees_ you, we're going to have huge problems, Roy," Dick bites. "You need to go home."

"Come with me and I will," Roy assures. "I got a job. I got a place. Kori comes around every weekend. Gotham's a shit hole, Dick."

"We've been over this, Roy," Dick says angrily. "If I leave the city, Black Mask will kill me and Tim and Jason and whoever else tries to stop him."

"We can protect you, Dick," Roy urges, grabbing his arm. Dick shoves it off.

"I'm not bringing my problems all the way across country so someone else can deal with them," he scoffs. "Things are happening here and if I play my cards right, we might finally get somewhere."

"Yeah? Like you played your cards right with Deathstroke?" Roy snaps. "What, you think Wayne is going to do you any favours? Ollie-"

"I don't want Ollie's help, Roy," Dick barks with ever shortening patience. "If you want to try to convince Jason and Tim to go with you, then by all means, but I can't- I _won't_ leave this city." Roy gives him a solemn look. Dick would love for him to be able to take his brothers back to Star City with him but they won't go without him and Dick can't go without putting everyone involved in serious danger.

They've had this argument plenty of times before and it never changes.

Dick looks at the doorway quietly and Damian now standing there, looking in. Roy sighs deeply.

"I'm gonna go talk to Jason," he says. Dick huffs back at him as he leaves. Damian watches him go before looking back at Dick inquisitively.

"Great friend," he says sarcastically. Dick laughs a little.

"Roy and I have been friends for ages," he assures. "We just see things differently." Dick picks the doctor's note up and folds it up to stick back in his pocket. Regardless of the outcome, he has to take it to the school. If Jason misses anymore days without a note, they'll expel him and he can't go back in the condition he's still in.

"Father says you want to help Selina," Damian comments. Dick sighs.

"Did Bruce really send you to try to change my mind?" he asks. Damian puffs himself out.

"Of course not. He wouldn't trust me with something like that," he replies matter-of-factly. Dick frowns at him. Bruce has been putting in the effort but it's going to take time for them to actually learn to trust each other.

"No, Damian. I don't _want_ to help her," he promises. "But it's an option I have to consider. I don't know if I'll take it but right now, I don't know if I have a choice."

"Then you think killing Black Mask is the right thing," he states.

"The right thing, no, but it's looking like it might be the only thing," Dick says. Damian firms his lips.

"Father won't let you," he says. Dick isn't sure if this is supposed to be some kind of warning or just a statement of facts. Dick knows. He's already considered the repercussions of helping Selina both from Bruce and the backlash of the False Facers. There isn't a doubt in his mind that Bruce would put him in Arkham if Dick went through with killing Mask outright.

He's even more sure that Bruce wouldn't so much as look at him again if Dick helped Selina in anyway.

"I have to go," Dick murmurs. "I'll be back, okay? I just need to drop something off at the school."

Damian wrinkles his nose.

x

Dick waits patiently in the lobby while the school receptionist calls Leslie to confirm the doctor's note. Even from here, he can hear her going off on the woman for asking if a leave of absence is 'really necessary'. As much as Dick appreciates her headstrong nature, he feels like it's going to come back to bite him in the ass.

But that's a problem for later and his phone is a problem for now.

Dick dreads it being Roman again but fortunately, it's not.

"Can't this wait, Roy?" Dick asks tiredly. "I'm in the middle of something."

"We can't find Tim," Roy says urgently. Dick's heart stops. "Jason and I went to grab some things from your apartment and when we got back, we found the butler unconscious. We've checked all over the manor."

For now, they'll ignore the fact that Roy 'shoot on sight' Harper for some reason thought it was a good idea to take Jason 'already shot on sight' Todd to their apartment owned by the man responsible for both of these things.

Dick lurches to his feet and he's leaving before anyone can so much as say a word to him.

"I'm on my way," Dick says, climbing back into the car. "Where's Bruce?"

"Haven't seen him, Dick. Or his kid. Wayne is a man with a lot of enemies. He could have gotten Tim snatched in a kidnapping attempt," Roy says. No, Bruce and Damian likely went after whoever took Tim. Who that could be, Dick has no idea. The Wayne manor is outfitted with more security measures than Gotham has gangs and Alfred may hide it well, but Dick recognises a trained combatant when he sees on. Someone would have had to not only get past the manor defenses but Alfred, Damian, _and_ Bruce.

The only person Dick can think of who would be capable of that is Slade and Slade knows better. He _better_ know better. Would Catwoman really try to send Slade after his brother to twist Red Hood's arm? Could Black Mask of hired someone else capable of getting past _Batman_ defenses.

"Stay with Jason," Dick instructs. "Don't you dare let him out of your sight, Roy Harper."

"Hey, I'm not!" Roy assures. "He's more capable than you think, Dick." It's not about being capable or even injured. It's about the fact that they really don't seem to understand that there are people out there who can, will, and _want_ to kill them. Dick hangs up and urges the driver to move faster.

Right off the bat, Dick can't see any damage to the outside of the manor or it's gate. None of the defenses seem to have been set _off_. It honestly looks like someone let them in. Dick calms himself before paranoia sets in.

He hurries through the manor to find Roy. Fortunately, he finds him with Jason close by. The two of them are tending to Alfred in the kitchen and Roy hastily passes it off to Jason when he sees Dick.

"He's in a bad way," Roy murmurs. "Got knocked out, hard. Doesn't look like he has a concussion but he's still disoriented. Jason called the doctor for him." Dick grips his hair as his attempt to stay calm rapidly start to run dry.

"I can't believe you took Jason back to our apartment, Roy," Dick bites.

"Jason's the one we can find!" Roy insists, gesturing to him cleaning the cut on Alfred's head. Dick makes a strangling motion at him. "Look, our only lead right now is Black Mask so I'm gonna go see what he knows."

"No," Dick says sharply. "No, we're waiting to hear from Bruce."

"The guy who was probably kidnapped?" Roy replies. "We're on a time limit here, Dick. Who knows what Black Mask will do to Tim."

Black Mask doesn't have Tim.

Just in time, Dick's phone goes off again. He motions for Roy to stay put, or else, and hurriedly answers as he walks out into the hall.

"Dick," Bruce says. He sounds exhausted. That's bad.

"Bruce, where is my brother?" Dick demands. "Tell me you have him."

"No," Bruce says. Dick's list of people who are going to Get It is just getting longer by the second. "Damian's mother took Damian and I believe Tim when he tried to stop her."

"Damian's _mother_?" Dick asks shortly.

"Talia al Ghul," Bruce says. "Ra's al Ghul's daughter." He knew Tim was going to get in trouble for being too nosy one day but this isn't what Dick had in mind. _Ra's al Ghul has his brother?_

"Where are you? What happened?" Dick demands.

"On my way back. She'll be taking them to Infinity Island. I'm going to get patched up and follow," Bruce assures. _Patched up_. He's already injured. That's fantastic. Everything about this is fantastic.

Dick stops himself, just barely, from baseball pitching his phone at the nearest fragile object. It's just one thing after another, isn't it? He can't even blame it on meeting Batman; their lives have always been just barely making it by one fiasco into another. He feels like he can't breathe.

"What's going on, Dick?" Roy asks. Dick turns to look at him, palming his phone in his hand slowly.

"Tim's gone."

X

Bruce isn't going anywhere. Dick bites the knuckle of his index finger while he watches Leslie tend to Bruce's injuries. He can't even fucking walk straight, he's not going after Tim and Damian. Maybe it serves him right; Dick can't imagine she got in so easy without being let in. Bruce won't trust his own son but is still soft enough on the boy's mother not to make sure she's viciously denied entry to his home.

Maybe Dick is just angry.

"Ollie's on his way," Roy says quietly.

"How long?" Dick asks. Roy gives him a solemn look.

"He's in Star City, Dick. Even in a good plane, a couple hours at least," he murmurs.

"And then another hour at least to Infinity Island," Jason scoffs. "So Oliver can what? Annoy them to death?" Dick bites his finger harder.

"What's your big plan, then, tough guy?" Roy snaps back. "Let's just hope Batman is already on it." He's not because they're fucking looking at him. Bruce won't look at Dick but he's not sure if it's out of shame or the sheer fact that he can't see that far without making himself dizzy. If he knows what the al Ghuls want with Tim, he's not saying, either.

Dick is barely withholding the urge to give him a concussion him damn self.

"Where are you going?" Roy asks as Dick walks off. Dick doesn't answer and he hears Roy sigh deeply behind him. "You stay in my sight, 'ight, kid? Man, I can't believe fuckin' Wayne shacked up with with an al Ghul."

At the end of the day, Dick can't just sit here and do nothing. Oliver's several hours out and by Leslie's count, Bruce isn't going anywhere fast for longer than that. Dick heads down to the cave hoping to find, at this point, _anything_ useful. There's nothing, of course- fixing this isn't just going to be sitting in some display case waiting for a button to be pushed.

So Dick judges his options.

Sionis wouldn't care. If Dick wanted his help, he'd have to give Sionis something worth messing with the al Ghuls for and even then, there's no guarantee he'd follow through on his word.

Selina might. If she knows Bruce's identity, she might take pity on his son if not simply the fact that Tim is an innocent. Or she might take it as a useful distraction. What really could Dick hope for her to do? Send a bunch of henchmen to aggravate a situation and get Tim killed?

They can wait for Oliver but Jason's right, to what end? Roy and Oliver aren't likely to succeed where Bruce failed. He trusts them but he also _knows_ them. Besides, waiting that long might be time they don't have.

Slade would help.

Dick stares into the display case.

Slade would and _can_ help. He's in town. Dick can pay him.

He'd never take money. He'd convince himself it's for Dick's own good and try to force Dick into an agreement he wouldn't be able to refuse. To go with him, maybe. To leave Gotham. To ditch Bruce. There's too many outcomes Dick can't be sure of with Slade. His options are slim.

"Bruce is quite the sizable man, isn't he?" Alfred says. Dick glances back at him then focuses better on the display case he's been staring into. It looks like an old model of one of Bruce's suits. Dick only comes up to the chest of it. "I'm sorry about your brother, Dick."

Dick doesn't say anything.

"Can I ask what you're thinking?" Alfred questions.

"Do you know how old I was when my parents died?" Dick asks.

"I don't, no," Alfred murmurs.

"Eight," Dick says. "I was fourteen when I got taken to juvenile hall. I spent two years there. Sixteen when I first met Jason; seventeen when I met Tim. For eight years, I had no one. I never wanted Jason and Tim to feel like that." Alfred inhales deeply and puts a comforting hand on Dick's shoulder.

"I'm truly sorry, Dick. I assure you, Bruce _will_ get Tim and Damian back," he assures. "A head injury hasn't stopped him before."

"I don't need him to," Dick says. Alfred breathes deep.

"Well," he murmurs. "You're going to need a smaller suit than that. One of the earlier versions should fit better with some padding but they're not armored so do be careful. The cowl and gauntlets should be fine but that still leaves your chest open." Dick turns to look at Alfred suspiciously.

"That's it? No argument? No telling me not to?" he asks skeptically. Alfred is already moving around, though, gathering things up and dusting things off.

"Certainly not," he puffs back, almost in amusement. "Your brother is missing and you think I'd ask you to sit aside and do nothing?" Dick runs a hand through his hair and rasps a small sigh. He really wasn't sure what to expect- not that it would have changed anything. If Dick had to storm Infinity Island in a paper bag and a rowboat, he still would have gone.

"You- do you really think it's a good idea?" Dick asks. Alfred sighs but he smiles and looks at Dick across the table.

"Good? Perhaps not," he admits. "But if we always waited for 'good' ideas, we'd never get anything done. The mantle is heavy, Dick, I can not lie to you about that. This-" he looks to the suit in his hands and then to the several cases along the wall. "All of these- it takes a very, very strong person to be able to don one."

Dick picks up the head piece and turns it over in his hands to run a thumb over the front.

"I know Bruce hasn't known you for very long but when he met you, Dick, something changed. Bruce has always been afraid of letting people close to him, of losing people he cares about. If he lets them close, he just pushes them away- but he'd rather just not let them close at all," Alfred says.

Dick can't help but laugh a little. Yeah, that sounds like a Batman thing.

"But you," Alfred goes on. "He _pursued_ you- even when it was easier to let go. He sees something in you, Dick, and it's a lot more than what he sees in himself."

Oh, _Bruce_.

"So, no, in all good faith, I could never _encourage_ someone to wear the cowl," he assures. "But it is not a decision anyone takes lightly, not after knowing Bruce. You've come to this decision on your own and nothing I say will deter you. I know that look _well_ enough. If my choices are sending you in ill prepared and alone or helping you and providing support-"

Alfred hands Dick the suit.

"Then we must learn to make exceptions."

Dick has to put it back down just to stop from crying.

X

So no, it's not a good idea but it doesn't have to be; it just has to work.

Dick works with Alfred as quick as they can to rummage up something half decent for him to wear. Despite their size difference, Dick's surprised how much like Batman he actually looks in the padded suit. Considering Batman makes a strict habit of not being seen often and the fact that his suit naturally is made to make it difficult to tell what he looks like, most people wouldn't know the difference.

It doesn't need to work for long, Dick only needs it for that split second intimidation factor.

While Alfred puts the finishing touches on making sure everything is working properly, Dick heads back upstairs. Roy and Jason are still in the den and likely, Leslie took Bruce to his room to finish patching him up proper. All the better; if Bruce knew what he was doing, he wouldn't be happy.

Dick will deal with the repercussions later.

"Oliver just took off a few minutes ago," Roy says as he comes in. "Dinah's with him, at least. That'll help." It'll be over with by the time they get here. "How are you holding up?"

"Jason, go get suited up," Dick instructs. Jason looks at him questioningly.

"Suited up? In-" it clicks. Jason goes from bemused to surprised and a little alarmed. "What, really? Dick-"

"He's injured!" Roy says at once. "You can't be serious, Dick."

"I'm going to get Tim and Damian," Dick says firmly. "And Jason isn't staying in this city without me to get himself in more trouble, end of story. If you don't want to come, then fine. No one's making you."

"Of course I'm coming," Roy scoffs. Dick gives Jason a confirming nod and Jason hastily limps off to get in his gear. Roy waits for him to be out of ear shot before saying anything else. "Dick, no offense, but you're not a vigilante. What exactly do you think you're going to do here?"

"WayneTec makes Batman's gear-" Dick says.

"I _knew_ it," Roy says under his breath. "I _told_ Oliver someone had to be investing in him and Bruce Wayne was the only idiot who'd do it." So much for not even believing in Batman.

"There's prototype Batsuits in the lab downstairs," Dick goes on. "I trained with _Deathstroke_ , Roy. I'm not looking for a fight, I just need to find Tim and Damian and get out. You want to help? I need you in the helicopter with Jason providing air support."

"Absolutely not, you're not going in there by yourself," Roy says at once.

"Roy, you're fucking huge," Dick replies dryly. "I'm not going to be able to sneak anywhere with you." Roy makes a face. "Despite the fact that you tried to kill him by taking him back to the _apartment Black Mask owns_ , I need you with Jason. We're going to need a pick up and Jason isn't going to be able to pull anyone up on his own in the condition he's in."

" _If_ you even get that far," Roy reminds him. "You understand Ra's al Ghul has an army of highly trained _assassins_ , right? This isn't just something you walk in and out of, Dick. You could get hurt, or _worse_."

"I'm aware," Dick assures. He knows full well the repercussions this could have. They still circle back to the same drive, though- he's not leaving Tim there. It doesn't matter what happens, Dick at least has to _try_.

" _Christ_ ," Roy says in exasperation. "Who's flying?"

"Alfred," Dick says.

"The butler?" Roy asks. "You know what, I don't want to know. We're not going to be able to get close to the island, you know. Not without tipping someone off about us being there."

"Roy, I might not be a vigilante but I'm not stupid," Dick says dryly.

"You want to go into a base full of assassins alone in a prototype batsuit," Roy says. "You could have fooled me."

"Suit up," Dick instructs with a roll of the eyes. "We're on limited time here." Roy looks at him unsurely but, ultimately, he's not going to stay behind and he knows he's not going to change Dick's mind.

It's going to be a long night.

X

"I gotta say," Roy murmurs. "You do pull that suit off. I'm impressed." Dick gives him a less than amused look but Roy just grins at him in return. Wearing this thing makes Dick's skin crawl. The sooner they get this done with, the sooner Tim and Damian are home, the sooner he gets to take it off.

"We're coming up on Infinity Island," Alfred alerts from the front. "I can't get any closer than this."

"Do we have visual?" Dick asks.

"Barely," Alfred replies.

"Good enough for me," Roy promises. That part Dick isn't worried about.

"We all know the plan, right?" Dick asks. Roy and Jason both nod firmly in agreement. It's not exactly much of a plan but it's all they have and they're here now. Worse comes to worst, Oliver and Dinah are still on their way.

"Stay safe down there," Roy says. That isn't part of the plan. Dick pulls the head piece on and fits it snug around his neck. The front glass seals up nicely and Dick watches the internal interface startup. It's impressive work, he can say that. It's Batman gear, of course it's impressive.

"Comm check," Dick says.

"Check," Roy replies.

"Check," Jason follows up.

"Check," Alfred says.

"Good to go," Roy assures. "You need a quick out, say the word and we'll get you out of there." They all know damn well Dick isn't leaving this place without Tim _and_ Damian. Dick gives him a nod anyways. He stands, looking out the side of the helicopter briefly and down into the water.

Here goes nothing.

Dick dives down into the water and, fortunately, his suit does hold up. The headpiece kicks into action filtering air for him and the display gives him directions to the island. Dick starts swimming for it.

"Remember, if we can see them, they can probably see us," Roy warns. "If they're not looking for us, we should be able to stay undetected. I have eyes on the site. Quiet but there's people. Be careful when you surface."

Quiet isn't necessarily good. Dick cautiously surfaces and once he's sure no one's in sight, he makes his way out of the water and wicks some of it off him. His suit, unsurprisingly, dries quickly. He looks around. There are patrols, that figures, but otherwise there aren't a ton of people roaming around. As long as he stays quiet and out of sight, he should be able to move around without alerting the al Ghuls. Seeing as it's an island with low light pollution in the middle of the night, that's easy. Dick starts for the building.

"You surfaced already? Fuck, I can't see you at all. Watch your back," Roy says. Dick doesn't reply. He's here, he needs to find Tim and Damian, and they need to leave. Roy was right about one thing; he's not a vigilante. If things come down to having to fight, he's screwed. The stone building is lit somewhat with torches but otherwise, clearly any personal not on patrol are sleeping. That makes it exceptionally easy to tell which rooms are still awake.

Dick starts climbing up the side wall.

Passing some windows, he comes to the realization that there are a lot more people here than he initially thought. Not setting off any alarms suddenly goes from being preferred to an outright necessity. Dick makes his way higher, towards a series of lit windows. When he gets close enough, it becomes clear that it's a single room and closer still reveals that it's a dining hall.

"There now, don't you feel better?"

Ra's.

Dick stays below the window line to listen in. By his tone, he'd assume Ra's is speaking to Damian; his grandson. That would make this both simpler and a lot more difficult. Damian should be able to point them to find Tim but that would mean getting him away from Ra's first.

"Sit," Ra's urges. "You're clean, you're dressed, soon you'll be fed. Now, boy, tell me your _name_."

Not Damian.

A twinge of rage plucks Dick's chest. If it's not Roman, it's Slade. If it's not Slade, it's Selina. If it's not Selina, it's Harley or Ivy or Riddler or Arkham or Crane or fucking _Ra's al Ghul_.

"You had so much to say earlier," Ra's says, calm and collected, but obviously becoming short when Tim won't reply. "Now you won't speak at all? No one's upset with you. I simply need to know _where_ you got all that information." Oh for fuck's sake, what did Tim say? Dick looks around, deciding the easiest escape route from the dining hall and where reinforcements would come from if called.

Making some quick decisions, he unsheathes a pair of batarangs from his belt and flings one to the outside of either spiral staircase. They're going to need to go up, not down. If he has to get Tim on the helicopter and then come back for Damian, so be it. Dick hops from one ledge to another to be able to gracefully toss himself into the dinning window.

"Oh shit, I see him. _Batman_ , this wasn't part of the plan," Roy reminds him forcibly. Plan's changed. Especially because it is, in fact, Tim sitting here, alone, with Ra's al _fucking_ Ghul. Tim brightens up immediately, hopping up to his feet at the very sight of him. Dick sees red.

"Batman!" Tim calls excitedly. His eye is badly bruised.

"Of course, now he speaks. You got here fast, didn't you, Batman," Ra's comments. "Come, have a seat. We've been expecting you."

No. They haven't.

Maybe he expects Dick to actually sit, to listen to his monologuing and his plans and his _ideas_. Maybe he expects Dick to argue with him, try to talk some sense into him, and deal with this peacefully.

But Dick isn't Batman.

Dick isn't even a _vigilante_. He's not bound by some OCD riddled logic of 'right and wrong'. His sense of justice isn't carved in cold, unfeeling stone, unable to make exceptions or quantify strays from the straight and narrow. He's not a 'good guy' with a morale code he has to adhere to or 'lose his way'.

He's angry.

"Now, now, Batman," Ra's says, in warning perhaps, when Dick walks towards him instead. He doesn't realise Dick isn't Batman until it's too late. He expects Dick to talk.

Dick hits him, full force, in the mouth with his escrima stick, knocking him out of his chair and sending him to the floor. _That's_ when he realises Dick isn't Batman.

Tim, of course, realises this at the same time and he's somewhere between alarmed and confused. Dick gestures him over and Tim hastily runs to his side, ducking under his cape and hiding behind him as Ra's starts getting back to his feet. With hopes that he won't have to use it, Dick silently passes Tim the retractable bo staff behind his back.

"You're not Batman," Ra's says. Dick hears the nearby explosions of Ra's reinforcements setting off the proximity bombs, collapsing in the staircases and significantly decreasing the amount of resistance they're going to meet getting out of here. The several that make it through, needless to say, don't hesitate. They lunge for him fiercely and Dick makes sure to defend Tim first and foremost.

They're fast. Dick functions on autopilot, blocking their blows one after another between his escrima sticks. He can't step back without trampling Tim so he doesn't, firmly and indefinitely holding his ground. With so many of them, he doesn't have an opportunity to knock any of them out without leaving himself open for a blow. He doesn't stand a chance in this fight.

"Hold on, Bats," Roy urges. "New plan. Get ready for cover."

"Enough," Ra's says and all at once, the assassins stop and fall back but don't drop their guard. Dick twirls his sticks in his hands to get a better grip on them and eyes Ra's as he comes closer- but not close enough. He's more durable than he looks. A blow like that would have broken a lesser man's jaw. Dick would have preferred that.

"It takes some skill to be able to hold your own against my men so easily," Ra's comments, almost trudging the line of a compliment. Dick isn't interested in bantering with him. "We have lots of surprises tonight. I take it that boy is yours?"

"I have a clear shot. On your mark," Roy assures.

"Apparently so," Ra's says when Dick very pointedly says nothing. "This won't end well for you. You might be skilled but you're no _Batman_."

"Where's Damian?" Dick asks.

"Do you really think you're in any position to be asking questions?" Ra's asks with a laugh.

"I wasn't talking to you," Dick says- and in Arabic, no less. The sheer look of offense on Ra's face is, honestly, almost worth it. Tim jolts a little.

"I think Talia locked him in his bedroom," he says. "Two floors up. The window with the bars on it." Ra's takes his sword out and in a heartbeat, he has the razor sharp blade pointed at Dick's throat. Dick doesn't even flinch.

"Who are you?" he demands.

"Hail Mary," Dick says. Ra's looks bemused.

"Who-" he begins. Roy's arrow hits his blade dead on, knocking it away from Dick's throat and exploding into a puff of smoke. Dick grabs Tim around the waist in one arm and covers his nose and mouth with his hand before bolting for the nearest viable exit. Tim latches onto him firmly just to hold on.

"After them!" Ra's roars. Dick kicks the door closed behind them and flings a handful of smoke balls at the base before carting Tim up the stairs. He snuffs out any torches he can as they go, and tosses the rest to the ground haphazardly.

"They know we're here now, Bats," Roy warns. "Extraction time."

"I need to get Damian," Dick replies. "Take Red Robin."

"Got it," Roy answers. Dick finds the nearest window and, fortunately, Roy seems to have been tracking their movements alright. The noise of the assassins following behind them is closer than he wants it to be. Dick hoists Tim up onto the window ledge and without having to wait long, Roy pings him in the back with an arrow. The harness snaps around him on contact and Dick makes sure it's secure. Tim glances back only to pale in the face when he realises what's coming.

Dick cups his face gently.

"You're alright," he assures softly. "You did good. I'm so proud of you, Red." Tim nods firmly. Dick tugs the rope and Tim hangs on tightly as Roy swiftly begins hoisting him up to the helicopter.

Now for the other one.

Dick looks back as the assassins breach the room and, once again, come straight for him. He hops out the window and effortlessly makes his way up the stone wall. The dead silence in which they pursue him in is more unsettling than anything else. He finds Damian's window, quickly decides it would be too difficult to pry the bars off from this side, and climbs into a different one to go around.

At the very least, they're being kind enough to follow him in a direct path instead of splitting off to corner him. Dick leaves some more presents in the window in the form of two more explosive batarangs. He bolts out the room and quickly makes his way to Damian's door. Not even bothering to check if it's locked, Dick braces himself on the frame and gives it a solid kick.

"Mother?" Damian says inquisitive. Oh good, he is in here.

"Do you have cover in there?" Dick asks. A beat of silence- the cowl does a good job of distorting his voice but Damian has the sense and knowledge to figure it out.

"Yes," he answers, neat and concise. "Taking it now." Dick gives the door another solid kick and hears it give, just a little. A third, precise kick shows it splitter, providing a weak spot for Dick to take advantage of. He's forced out of the way as Talia, presumably, attacks him. Dick hastily puts some room between them and mentally plans his escape route.

"Isn't that suit a little big for you?" she asks. "Where's Bruce? It isn't like him to sit out."

"Red Robin is secure," Roy informs. "We're trying to give you covering fire but you need to make this quick, Bats." Dick flings several batarangs at her and she deflects them quite easily with her sword. He hears the explosion from the other room but she is unphased. Not that he's surprised.

"Cat got your tongue?" she asks. "Or should I say _bat_. You two have been getting awfully friendly, lately." So she's figured out who he is. It doesn't matter. "He won't love you, you know. Look at all I gave him and he won't even give me the time of day."

Dick throws his escrima stick at her with nothing but blunt force. She dodges, of course, and comes right at him. Down a stick, Dick is left to fend her off with the other. Unlike the assassins, though, it becomes apparent immediately that she's not a baseline, either. She dishes out harder blows and withstands strikes even at all the strength Dick can muster. Yep. Going pretty bad.

"Bats, we don't have visual on you," Roy says urgently. "Hurry up."

Damian and his tiny little racoon hands, capable of reaching through small openings and picking locks, smacks his mother over the head with Dick's escrima. She goes down, fortunately, and Dick bolts forward to scoop Damian up whether he wants to be or not. He doesn't seem happy with this but he doesn't complain just yet- mostly because Talia is already getting up behind them.

"That was your best idea?" Damian says dryly. Dick ignores him for the time being, carting him up the next flight of stairs and finally onto the roof. All those reinforcements he had temporarily cut off are quickly regrouping and Dick isn't interested in trying to fend off even more of them. Roy stays on the ball, though, and shoots another harness onto Damian the second he has a shot. Dick hastily makes sure it's secure before tugging the rope and Damian makes an undignified face the entire way up.

"Fuck, I owe you ten bucks, Hood," Roy murmurs. "Kid _is_ heavier than Red."

Talia snarls behind him and Dick turns to look at her. She approaches him, sword drawn, and Dick backs up towards the edge of the building. He peers down into the rocky shallows below. Even with his impressive acrobatics, there's no way he can make a jump from here into safe waters.

"You can keep the nosy little brat," Talia says. "But you're giving me my son."

"Up we go, Bats. Let's get out of here," Roy says. Dick feels the arrow hit him and the harness engage but before Roy can pull him away, Talia lashes out, throwing a knife from her belt and cutting the rope. " _Shit_. Hold tight, I got you. Smoke her for me, will you?"

"My son," Talia demands. There's no way Roy's going to be able to pull him up without her interfering and there's no way for Dick to reasonably knock her out with the other assassins converging on the roof.

"Bats. Smoke her," Roy repeats. "We need to go."

"Talia, right?" Dick says, shucking the harness off. "I'm glad to have had a chance to meet you." Talia's look only sours, though. She steps closer, pointing her sword at him in a threatening manner. He steps further back until he's right on the edge.

" _Batman_ ," Roy barks. Dick hears the second arrow but it never reaches him. Talia knocks it out of the air with another precise throw before it gets to him.

"Your son's a good kid," Dick assures. She snarls at him angrily. "And I think one day, he'll be a great man. But if you want him back, you'll have to pry him from my cold dead hands, demon."

"That, I can do," Talia replies sharply. Dick falls back before she can act.

"Wait, wait, wait! I wasn't ready! I told you these take a second to prepare! _Batman_!" Roy yells at him. Dick grabs the edges of his cape and pulls it taunt, making the embedded rods in it stiffen, lock together and-

Dick catches the breeze.

His momentum gives him enough of a draft to swoop away from the rocky water and begin gliding out over the sea. Turning himself upright so he has more control, he keeps up his momentum with small dips and glides and carries himself far away from the island.

"You crazy, stupid, fearless son of a bitch!" Roy yells at him. "God, I love you!" Dick huffs a small laugh in return. It feels good. Tim and Damian are safe and he can breathe again. He can't glide forever but with Infinity Island quickly disappearing behind them, they'll be more than far enough into open waters for them to pick him up without having to worry. For now, this is kind of nice. It reminds him of the circus again; peaceful.

"You hit Ra's al Ghul in the mouth!" Tim yelps. "That was so _cool_! And fighting all those ninja! And Talia!"

"It was impressive. _Stupid_ , but impressive," Damian agrees.

"That was nothin'. You guys haven't seen 'im when he's _really_ pissed," Jason assures with an amused snort.

"Excellent work, Batman," Alfred says. "A little bit farther and we'll pick you up."

Dick can't believe this worked.

X

"Are you alright, Master Dick?" Alfred asks. Dick ruffles his hair again as he stares at the suit he'd just been wearing just prior. There's a lot more cuts in it than he thought there'd be and the cowl has a crack along the side. He hadn't noticed either while he was wearing it despite having cuts on him in the same place. Running on pure adrenaline will do that, though. He's the most bruised he's been in years- since training with Slade.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I'm alright. Where's everyone else?"

"Jason, Timothy, and Damian are asleep in the den," Alfred assures. "I believe your friend stepped out to meet with Mr. Queen and Ms Lance." Dick nods.

"It's been a long day. We could all use some rest," he murmurs. "Thank you, again, for all your help, Alfred."

"Of course," Alfred replies. "It was my pleasure."

"Alfred," Bruce says. Dick winces his eyes closed. Here comes those repercussions from earlier. He's changed his mind, he doesn't want to deal with them now. "Could you excuse us?" Alfred looks at Bruce with something of a tedious look before giving Dick a small smile and exiting the cave. Dick combs his fingers through his hair while Bruce approaches him.

He doesn't say anything for a while, instead just looks over the suit quietly. Dick gets impatient.

"Well?" he asks. "Are you mad?"

"No," Bruce says. "I'm not- _happy_ , but I'm not mad, Dick. You did what you had to do. I'm just sorry that I let you down again. You shouldn't have _needed_ to do this." Dick exhales quietly. He stares at the suit and eventually, Bruce looks at him instead and he hesitantly looks back. Bruce holds an arm open and just like that, Dick buries into his chest. God, he's still floored that he passed as Batman when Bruce is this much bigger than him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Dick murmurs, gripping Bruce's arms tightly. "I just- I don't know."

"Vigilantism isn't for everyone, Dick. This was a high stress situation, it's normal to feel overwhelmed now that it's over," Bruce promises. Dick looks up at him. He shakes his head minutely.

"No, Bruce," he says. "This- I- For the first time since I was a kid, I feel _alive_ , Bruce. I felt _free_." Bruce looks surprised, actually, like that wasn't what he was expecting to hear. There's a moment where they just look at each other then Bruce is kissing him, nice and gentle. Dick kisses back and it quickly delves into something more heated and urgent. All at once, the heat building in his belly from today's adrenaline and danger spills out and they're grappling at each other. He claws at Bruce's back and Bruce moves to kiss his throat, making Dick groan agreeably in return.

He feels like he's never wanted anything more than this. Is he really that pent up?

Bruce slips a hand under his shirt and Dick responds by grabbing the front of his slacks with both hands. He yanks, moving them backwards, and with a few steps, Dick feels his back press against the edge of the table. He's lifted with ease and he hooks his legs around Bruce's thighs as he works on getting his slacks open. Already, Bruce's heavy cock is semi-erect. Dick gives him a few strokes to help him along before beginning to pull at the edge of his shirt. Bruce helps him pull it off before dipping back down to kiss him.

Every time before this has felt staged and, to be fair, most of them were. That's what being with a sex worker is like- for Dick at least. Even when he's enjoying himself, it's acting. They don't talk this time; Bruce isn't promising to pay and Dick isn't trying to figure out what he 'really' wants. It's just heat and need and _want_.

Fuck, he wants Bruce. Really, truly _wants_.

Dick strokes Bruce's cock in his hands as they kiss and feels the copious precum gather around the tip. He's already so hot and hard, Dick kind of wishes he was better prepared to take it. Bruce returns the favour, palming Dick through his pants and feeling his swollen cock before making short work of the button and zipper. He pushes the band of his briefs down to stroke his cock and Dick bucks into his hand.

But there's too much heat and not enough skin; not enough friction.

Impatiently, Dick pushes Bruce's hands away to make some room and shimmy out of his pants and briefs. Once off, he turns himself around to brace against the table and reaches back to grab Bruce's shirt collar, pulling him forward. Bruce instinctively leans over him, slotting against his back and breathing heavy in Dick's ear, enough to make him shudder. Having him this close feels good- concrete. Dick grinds back against him, feeling his hard cock against the small of his back and ass. Bruce grips the edge of the table roughly and Dick groans as his neck is kissed and nipped.

With one hand, he reaches between his thighs to find Bruce's cock and pull it forward. He's forced on his tiptoes to stay balanced, both hands braced on the table as he squeezes his thighs around Bruce's hard cock. Bruce grunts deeply in his ear and Dick bites his lip as he grins. He can feel it throb between his thighs. Slowly, he rocks back and groans as he feels it rub against his sack. He strokes the tip in his hand as he moves. Bruce bucks forward suddenly and Dick has to brace himself on the table with both hands.

" _Fuck_ ," Dick rasps out. He tosses his head down. Bruce wraps an arm around his middle to support him and Dick tilts his head back into his chest again alongside another strong, eager thrust. He pinches his thighs tighter. "Fuck, fuck, _more_."

Bruce has no arguments about that. Dick braces one knee against the edge of the table and clings to Bruce's arm as Bruce thrusts between his thighs more and more boldly. He feels the hot precum smear against his skin with each one. Dick's own cock drools heavily just from the stimulation alone, every powerful thrust making it bob against his belly. Bruce mouths at his neck and Dick groans in pure bliss.

"Yes, yes, yes," he chants, breathless and hot. Bruce palms his cock, giving him some much needed friction, and Dick twists against him roughly. "Oh, _fuck yes_ , Bruce."

He comes hard with a wounded sound on his tongue, stripping the desk and digging his nails into Bruce's arm. Bruce isn't far behind, grunting ferally as Dick clenches his thighs even tighter in his orgasm and pulls him to the brink. Dick feels his cock pulse between his legs as he comes all over the desk as well and he can't help but laugh a little. He eases his thighs and Bruce carefully loosens his grip to let him stand on his own. Dick's legs are shaky.

"Are you alright?" Bruce asks. Dick nods.

"Great," he assures. "Though considering you have a concussion, that probably wasn't a _good_ idea." Bruce rubs his head softly.

"I'll be okay," he assures sheepishly. Dick turns to face him again, wrapping his hands around Bruce's neck and pulling him down for another kiss. His stomach twists anxiously.

"Okay," he murmurs. "I'm going to get cleaned up and- clean this up. Then go check on the boys. You should lay back down, Bruce."

"Will you be joining me?" Bruce asks, stroking Dick's hair back and kissing him again.

"Yeah," Dick promises. "Yeah, I will. I just need to unwind a little first."

"Okay," Bruce murmurs back. Dick bites his lip as they part and he watches as Bruce heads back up to the manor. He exhales shakily as he slouches back against the table and catches his thoughts.

Things have gotten so complicated.

X

With the three of them seemingly warm and cozy in the den, Dick doesn't see a reason to move them. He leaves them be to find Roy instead. He doesn't have to look very far, finding him out front still shaking off some of the adrenaline from the night. Roy grins at him when he steps out and then rushes to him, grabbing Dick by the shoulders. He kisses him with everything he has.

Dick pushes him back.

"Roy," he says swiftly. "I can't." He shakes his head slowly and Roy looks a little hurt but he bounces back. He lets go, rubbing his neck a little.

"Right," he says. "Sorry."

"Everything okay with Oliver and Dinah?" Dick asks, trying to change the topic.

"Yep," Roy assures. "They're plannin' on havin' lunch with Bruce tomorrow then, hopefully, we can fly back out with Waylon before dinner."

"I'm glad to hear," Dick replies. An awkward silence passes and Dick looks out towards Gotham quietly for a moment. "Thanks again, Roy, for helping me get them back. I doubt we would have managed without you."

"Always glad to help," Roy promises. "You were _amazing_ , Dick. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you _were_ Batman." Dick laughs.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier, too," he says. "I know you're just doing what you think is best." Roy puts a hand on his arm again and squeezes him softly.

"I'm not just tryin' to do what _I_ think is best, Dick. I want to help. You _and_ them. You guys are like family to me," he encourages. "I got better. I got _out_. Now I can help you get out."

"And I appreciate the offer, Roy," Dick assures again, gently pushing Roy's hand off of him. "But I _can't_."

"Dick," Roy says sadly. Dick glances back at the manor and he sighs.

"If tonight proved anything, it's that we're not just some damsels in distress," he promises. "We don't _need_ you to save us, Roy. We'll always welcome your help, and your love, but taking us away from our home isn't what any of us want. We're not going to be chased out of Gotham." Roy inhales deeply but, ultimately, he just nods.

The same conversation they always have; it always ends the same, too. Maybe one day Roy will get it through his thick skull.

Dick hugs him tightly and Roy gladly hugs back.

"I've found something here, Roy," Dick murmurs. "Something that really, truly makes me happy. Just like you found something in Star City. I can't just let that go."

"And you're sure _I_ can't make you happy?" Roy asks, as hopeful as ever. Dick pats his back before pulling away.

"Kori makes you happy," Dick says. "Lian makes you happy. I don't make _you_ happy. I wish I did."

"You keep sayin' that and you _know_ it's not true," Roy argues. He takes Dick's hands but Dick just smiles at him, looks at their hands and squeezes softly. "You could make me _so_ happy."

" _Could_ ," Dick repeats, making his point.

"Come with us back to Star," Roy begs.

"I'll visit you one day, Roy," Dick promises. "But tomorrow, I _can't_."

"You love Bruce, don't you?" Roy asks. "He's gonna break your heart, Dick. He's a playboy- and an _idiot_. He wouldn't know you're the best thing to happen to him if you hit him in the mouth with it."

"Goodnight, Roy," Dick says, taking his hands away. Roy frowns at him as he goes.

"Goodnight, Dick."

X

Dick leans in to take the phone out of Bruce's hand and Bruce looks up at him questioningly.

"You have a concussion," Dick says. "You need rest, not tiny font and business jargon." Bruce huffs a quiet laugh but he agrees with a small nod and lets Dick put his phone aside. He settles into the bed a little more and watches while Dick changes out of his clothes.

"Dick," Bruce murmurs.

"Mm," Dick replies.

"I've thought about what you said," he begins. "About Selina." Dick plops down on the edge of the bed and moves the blankets aside to crawl in beside Bruce. He's warm and Dick is sore and tired. Sleep sounds amazing. "You're right. I took too long to do anything about Sionis out of fear of the kind of repercussions it could have. I can't expect people to play by my rules now and I can't be surprised that there are people in Gotham that are out for his blood. Even _good_ people."

Dick nuzzles up to him and Bruce brings a comfortable arm around him.

"But," he goes on. "Killing Sionis still isn't the answer and getting yourself or your brothers any further involved with this is only going to make the fallout worse on you three. I'm going to talk to Selina. Hopefully, she'll be open to compromise and we'll be able to work something out."

"I hope you have suggestions going in," Dick comments. "You're not going to convince her of anything you haven't yet convinced yourself of."

"That, I'm still working on," Bruce admits. "There's enough evidence to put him in Arkham indefinitely but with his resources and 'friends', he'd be out in a heartbeat."

"So," Dick says. "Cut him off from his resources and friends."

"It's not that easy," Bruce murmurs.

"Not for you," Dick says. Bruce opens his mouth briefly to reply before letting out an amused noise. "Like I said, Catwoman has proven she's capable of handling things after he's dead. If you give her a hand, I don't see why she can't handle things just as well with him behind bars."

"Maybe," Bruce says. "I still don't know if I trust her or her accomplices in this. The 'good of the city' is not their usual MO; self gain is." Dick pets Bruce's chest softly.

"Concussion," he says again. "No more business talk. Wayne or Bat brand. I'm tired, you're hurt, we could talk about this all night."

"Right," Bruce murmurs, leaning his head on Dick's. "Okay. And we're okay?"

"We're okay," Dick promises.

"You did an amazing job today, you know," Bruce says. "Thank you for stepping in- and thank you for bringing Damian back, too. His mother doing this was unexpected."

"I wasn't exactly going to leave him with the demon's head," Dick assures. "You can actually thank me by going to sleep- and staying in bed through the night _at least_." Bruce laughs.

"If you have to twist my arm," he says. They settle in together and Dick sleeps the best he has in ages.


End file.
